


Traces of You

by she_who_the_river_could_not_hold



Series: Bellarke Bingo [5]
Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Royalty, Arranged Marriage, F/M, Falling In Love, Marriage Before Love, Prince!Bellamy, Strangers to Friends to Lovers, bed-sharing is out and chivalrously not sharing is IN because you want her to feel respected, princess!clarke, so in the meantime you just fall in love from across the room, that feels so short lol, this is a very straight forward fic, will update tags later but I think that's it??
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-19
Updated: 2020-09-07
Packaged: 2021-02-25 23:40:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 23,010
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21853843
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/she_who_the_river_could_not_hold/pseuds/she_who_the_river_could_not_hold
Summary: The reluctant prince. The scholar. Prince Bellamy knows his reputation amongst the court of Arkadia and why he’s a hard sell for Advisor Kane in his desperate attempt to find him a suitable wife. So he’s not sure why he thinks Princess Clarke will be any different than the last rejections. In fact, they get off to an evenworsestart than the other ladies, with the two of them constantly bickering with each other.But when his life is suddenly turned upside down and Bellamy has to become king sooner than he expected, Clarke might be the only constant in his life.And now his bride.
Relationships: Bellamy Blake/Clarke Griffin
Series: Bellarke Bingo [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1420159
Comments: 80
Kudos: 374





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! I’m so excited to finally getting to do an arranged marriage AU! When I saw that I had both the royalty AU and the marriage before romance trope on my Bellarke Bingo card, I immediately had my story in mind. I hope the aesthetics to this fit with my descriptions, I really clung to this idea of Bellamy in an old world, almost Gothic castle. I’ve also used the whole “City of Light” concept and attempted to blend it into a somewhat classic, almost Catholic faith all for the aesthetic as well. It’s referenced a couple times but not in-depthly. 
> 
> If you’re interested, I have [a moodboard](https://she-who-the-river-could-not-hold.tumblr.com/post/189740588604/traces-of-you-a-bellarke-royaltyau-with-the/) for it over on my Tumblr! Otherwise thanks for checking it out and I hope you enjoy!
> 
>  **Bellarke Bingo Prompts:** Royalty!AU, Marriage Before Romance, Falling in Love

The reluctant prince.

The scholar. 

That was all Bellamy was known as and to the credit of the people at court, they weren’t entirely wrong. As much as he knew that the role he had been born into was a part of why he was able to have access to so much of what he loved, he still despised being royalty. And he wasn’t even the king yet.

While his mother was overall in as good of health as could be expected, she was still getting older and the effects of the Northern climate seemed to grow stronger. She was more prone to getting sick than he and his sister, a fact that made every winter a tense one as they kept her bundled up in the thickest robes possible. It made him wish that fate had destined them to be rulers in a more southern country, one where the ocean air and warm sun could help prevent that dreaded feeling each year while he closely monitored her health. But that wasn’t the case, instead giving them varied seasons of different temperatures and a sometimes drafty, sprawling castle nestled amongst hills and forests.

Queen Aurora’s health aside though, it was already expected of Bellamy to begin to plan to take her place on the throne at some point soon regardless. She’d ruled for a lengthy time alone, no man by her side, and it would soon be time for her to spend the rest of her days away from the stresses of ruling and passing the title to her eldest child. And as king, heirs would also be required of him. 

And for an heir to happen, he needed to be married.

It was no doubt the bane of Advisor Kane’s existence to attempt to find a suitable wife for Bellamy. On paper, a prince should have been easy to market. Bellamy wasn’t so unaware as to not know that he was considered attractive. As much as his mother fussed about his hair, he liked the tousled black curls that he had (as did some of the people who had some experience… pulling it when the situation arose). While he spent more time in the library than anywhere else, he spent the remainder of his days in the stables training with the knights. With a smaller staff than other royal households, thus giving him more physical duties than an average prince, he’d built up a muscular physique that he was proud of.

But the benefits ended there, therefore beginning Kane’s difficulty. 

Bellamy knew he had a bad temper and it had certainly made its rounds in court gossip. He was most likely too stubborn for his own good (but really though, had anyone met his sister?), which apparently wasn’t an attractive trait. Few women seemed interested in a surly man who would rather hide away in a library, pouring over tomes of ancient history and religion instead of attending parties or socializing.

Maybe the rejections should have bothered him, but Bellamy really couldn’t bring himself to care. It was always the same. The lady would arrive to the castle, be thrown off by the darkness that shrouded it, be turned off by him, and then leave. 

One more reputation added to his character.

Which was why he wasn’t expecting much when Kane rushed to tell him that a new potential bride was on her way to visit them and she’d be arriving in Arkadia sometime by the end of the month. 

Bellamy had barely looked up from his books, the end of a quill gently resting against his lips as he grunted in acknowledgement to Kane’s words.

He didn’t know who this Princess Clarke was, but he had no reason to believe that she’d be any different from the last girl who had fled at the idea of marrying into all of _this_. 

* * *

Octavia’s chambermaids had barely been able to clean her up before shoving her into the Grand Hall next to Bellamy and his mother. With all of her sharp angles and even sharper gaze, it was easy for most to forget how young she was at just fifteen-years-old. Not that Bellamy could — royal duties had occupied his mother’s time and even with chamber maids, he had been his baby sister’s main caregiver during her childhood. He would have reprimanded her for training with the other knights so close to arrival of Princess Clarke and her entourage, but to be fair, he had barely been able to be dragged out of the library while Miller had barked at him to try and fix his hair. 

Neither of them were good at pretending to care about things, much to everyone’s chagrin in the castle. 

“A silver piece on how long she lasts?” Octavia muttered, keeping her posture upright and face forward, but barely leaning to the left so that she could whisper to Bellamy. 

He swallowed a laugh as he caught Kane’s disapproving frown. 

“A week?”

“I’ll give you two silver pieces if she lasts that long,” Octavia said quickly, her words barely getting out before the groaning creak of the grand hall door opening echoed in the chamber. 

Bellamy’s eyes were immediately drawn to who he assumed was the princess at the front of the precession. She looked smaller than him, quite the difference compared to the statuesque Marquess Echo of Azgeda who had come the previous year, a woman who had stood proudly as tall as him. The princess’ blonde hair was nearly white in the cool-toned room, her skin paler than he would have guessed for a member of the royal family from the south. But everything else matched up to what he would expect. Perfect posture, her shoulders rolled back and her head held high. She moved with ease underneath the layers of fabric that were piled on top of her, a deep green fabric that looked as soft as her skin.

The thought came unbidden to him and he shook his head to get rid of it, studying her closely as they approached. She was flanked by a woman he could only assume was her mother, with a guard directly next to her before the line of servants and various other guardsmen behind them. A traditional lineup, though he noted the curious, almost apprehensive, looks of the lady’s maids as they looked around.

He imagined they were startled by the draftiness of the old castle. He’d never been to one in the south, but here their castles were testaments to history. The old world and religion had viewed the monarchy with a reverancy, but also a practicality. 

There would be no extravagance here – nothing wasted unlike the elaborate, over-the-top lifestyle of the southern royalty that he had heard about. 

It made him bristle up, already prepared for a brief experience with this new potential bride.

It was always the entitled, spoiled ones that left first. 

The princess though, _Clarke_ if he remembered correctly, didn’t look around though. She wasn’t distracted by the dark stone and wood that accented the arching ceilings and the simple stained glass windows. Her eyes were entirely focused on him and he felt like the blueness could pierce through him. Her expression was perfectly composed; he couldn’t get a read on her at all. 

The last thought he had before Kane stepped forward for the introductions was he wondered if her eyes were the color of the ocean she grew up by.

“Your majesties, Queen Abigail and Princess Clarke. Welcome to Arkadia,” Kane said as he gave a sweeping bow. 

To Bellamy’s surprise, he then kissed each of their cheeks, in a move more familiar and comfortable than he would have expected. He didn’t get to dwell on it for long though as the advisor then turned and gestured to him and his family.

“May I officially introduce you to her highness, Queen Aurora?”  
  


His mother stepped forward primly, the two women briefly touching hands before Bellamy found himself automatically moving forward at the jerk of Kane’s head.

“And this is Prince Bellamy and Princess Octavia. This is Princess Clarke,” he said, giving them room to step closer. Octavia reached them first, exchanging in a curtsey with them and then stepping aside for him. 

His bow felt more uncomfortable than normal, unable to tear his eyes away from Clarke’s as she curtsied. It felt like a challenge to see which of them could look away first and he’d be damned if it was going to be him.

He could vaguely overhear the two queens discussing the travel here and a smile finally almost quirked onto Clarke’s face before she became the one to break the stare to answer a question his mother had asked her about how she found the lands of Arkadia so far.

Besides the fact that she seemed to be genuinely impressed with the rugged terrain around them (most of them seemed to struggle to lie about that), Bellamy was intrigued by her voice. It was low and clear, almost huskier for a woman than he was used to. He only started when Octavia subtly stepped on his foot.

Her eyes told him to pull himself together so he sighed and straightened his posture some more, just in time to realize everyone was looking at him. 

“I asked how your studies have been,” Clarke said, the challenge back in her eyes as they stared each other down. “I’ve heard most impressive things about the literature collection here in Arkadia.”

“It’s going well,” Bellamy replied after a beat.

In his defense, he wasn’t used to being asked about his readings. Clearly she had heard all of the good _and_ bad about him if she was asking that, but it still threw him off.

So his answer came out short and incredibly lacking, leaving an awkward pause as everyone else realized he wasn’t going to elaborate.

Eventually Kane cleared his throat and turned to Queen Abigail and Clarke, telling them that he’d be delighted to escort them to their rooms for their stay. Repeating the posturing of an exit, everyone refiled in line behind the royal family and Kane led them out of the grand hall and into the labyrinth of the rest of the castle.

“Could you have tried any harder to be the most boring bastard ever?”

“Octavia!” Snapped Aurora, though she followed it up with a reproachful look at Bellamy. “Dear, I understand it can be exhausting to keep meeting new young ladies and try to imagine marrying one. But please, could you attempt some more conversation at dinner tonight? I know you’re better than that.”

Bellamy sighed.

“Of course, I was just caught off guard,” he muttered, knocking Octavia with his elbow and leaning over to kiss his mother on the cheek. “I’ll be the perfect prince for the rest of the time she’s here, however short that may be.”

He then turned on his heel to leave, ignoring the protests from his mother to be more optimistic and Octavia’s stifled giggling. 

He really needed to go spar with Miller. Or just something, _anything_ , to stop thinking about Princess Clarke and their first interactions. 

* * *

Bellamy had no idea why Kane remained so positive that Princess Clarke would somehow be the one to break through to him and be the one he married.

The past week had entirely proved otherwise to him. 

He was no stranger to getting women into bed when he desired it, even the occasional man once or twice, but it turned out that Bellamy had no idea how to court someone. None of the other princesses had given him the time of day for him to even try. And he had promised his mother that he would actually attempt to be on his best wooing behavior.

Since that first day though, when it had appeared that he hadn’t been listening to her, Clarke was difficult to interact with. It wasn’t an explicit thing, but it turned out she was just as stubborn as him. She made him elaborate on everything, letting every awkward moment live out to its full terribleness until he was forced to say more. She took to peppering in references into her small talk that she would then pause at, glancing over at him to see if he knew what she was talking about. It would make him frown but he nearly always understood it.

She was smart, at least, he’d give her that. 

But the frustrating part was even when he felt like he had been smooth, giving her a cocky but confident grin, she’d simply respond coolly to it. 

Princess Clarke was truly the most aggravating person he had ever met.

Which meant that even as Kane would say, “I think she’s the best match we’ve found for you,” Bellamy found himself losing any desire to even try.

Which was how they found themselves in their current status.

The two families went horseback riding and Bellamy made a snarky comment about her needing a donkey, or something more suited to her small stature, and it somehow resulted in them racing each other. The shared amused looks on their mothers’ faces once they came back, completely drenched in mud, had only been glossed over by Octavia’s frustration at not winning because she had gotten lost once they’d entered the forest. 

There was a casual party thrown to welcome Clarke and her mother to Arkadia, and when they’d danced it had almost been impossible to determine who stepped on whose shoes more. Bellamy had been told that dances were often a great chance to have stolen moments with a romantic partner, potential or otherwise. The ability to touch them, even in the most proper way, compared to the distance most often kept between them during the day. The music, the free-flowing alcohol. 

Bellamy had walked away from it vowing to never be in that close of proximity to Clarke ever again.

Kane had listened to him with an amused smile, the two of them seated in Bellamy’s study. It was a gray day; a thick fog had rolled in overnight and brought with it a heavy mist. He’d forgone the chance for a lone ride with his horse and instead holed himself up in his study. Kane had found him and had asked for updates at the previous night’s party, thus subjecting him to the barrage of frustrations that the prince had. 

“I still think there’s time for a conclusion to be reached that benefits both parties,” was all the advisor said. It made Bellamy swear. 

Any other thoughts he’d have wanted to voice though were cut off by a knock on the door.

It certainly wasn’t his sister. She never thought to knock.

With raised eyebrows, Bellamy called out for the person to come in and watched as the door opened and Clarke’s head poked through.

He did his best to not groan audibly. 

‘I’ll leave you two alone,” Kane said, pausing to bow on his way out of the room. Bellamy would have thrown a book at him for being so obvious, except he didn’t want to damage any of his books. 

“I’m surprised he left us alone, it doesn’t look like there’s much weight to etiquette here,” Clarke said dryly as she stepped fully in.

“Etiquette is a waste of time in most cases,” Bellamy grumbled back, refusing to get from his chair to give her the proper greeting that he was sure etiquette would have told him was the right thing to do..

Which earned him the snappy response of, _“clearly.”_

“Can I help you or did you just come here to bother me?” Bellamy asked in a huff. 

Clarke’s eyes narrowed as she walked forward, dropping into the seat in front of him that Kane had previously been occupying. As the days went on, she’d mirrored his lack of decorum and even now, she sat relaxed in the chair with her posture more slouched than that her day and her arms resting idly on the arms of it with her legs spread out.

Not gone was the challenge she always carried in her eyes.

“No one’s shown me the library yet.”

It wasn’t the answer he was expecting. 

“You know,” she continued, “the large room where all of the books are kept.”

That time he didn’t stop himself from rolling his eyes (his mother wasn’t anywhere nearby to tell him he was setting a bad example for Octavia). 

“I didn’t want to lose the one place I can keep all to myself,” he drawled. He didn’t tell her that the library was through his study and that it felt too much like revealing a part of himself to her that he wasn’t prepared for and it wasn’t as simple as hiding away from her.

At that, Clarke sat right back up with that perfect posture and her eyes flashed into anger. “You’re not the only one who likes to read,” she said hotly. “Excuse me for trying to find a way to occupy my time while being miserably courted because the prince of Arkadia is an ass.”

They were both abruptly silent as Clarke’s words sunk in and Bellamy struggled to tell if he was embarrassed for being called out or annoyed at the implication that he was the only source of problem in this situation.

He ended up deciding he was angry.

“Listen here Princess,” he snarled out the title, “if you’re so miserable, why are you even here? You and your mother are free to leave at any time to go back to your precious castle by the ocean and your perfect little life back home.” 

Clarke’s expression had twisted into a frown that only deepened as he carried on. It wasn’t until he was done talking though that he realized that the two of them were now leaning across the desk towards each other, the heat of their anger nearly rolling off of them.

For a brief moment, he almost wondered if he was close to kiss her. Certainly the first time he’d wondered that since Kane had began parading the young women through the castle. But before he could even imagine what it might be like, simply closing the small gap between them and stealing a kiss, Clarke’s face seemed to crumple and the moment was broken. He watched helplessly as she pushed herself back and stormed out of the room, leaving the door wide open so that he could hear the sound of her footsteps echoing down the hallway. 

Her sudden exit surprised him and he was left half-leaning out of his chair, his forearms on the desk, while he tried to think of what it was that he had said to set her off.

Surely they had been rude to each other throughout this week before then? It hadn’t felt malicious, as much as a cynical approach to the truth. 

But when dinner eventually rolled around, and Queen Abigail begged them to forgive her daughter’s absence (“she’s got a bit of an upset stomach and wants to sleep it off”), Bellamy came to the conclusion that he had definitely said something wrong.

It must have been obvious too. When Octavia leaned over and gleefully told him that she’d have to get him two silver pieces tomorrow since she had lost the bet (she preferred no extra princesses at the castle even if meant losing), he hadn’t felt as excited by the prospect as he would have thought he’d be. With every other option, he’d been counting down their departure. With Clarke, he almost hadn’t realized it had been a full week. And that was including how disastrous all of their interactions had been.

While picking at his dessert, Bellamy started to come to the conclusion that as much as Clarke got on his nerves, he also begrudgingly liked her company. No one outside of his sister was that comfortable pushing and pulling him, never taking it too far. Hadn’t all of their fights been almost playful this week? What really was a horse race at the end of the day? It was a far cry from miserably staring at each other across a small table set up in the garden. And had Bellamy ever liked parties before anyway? At least with Clarke he’d had a distraction.

And of course, it was tonight they had a real fight. A fight that made him realize he didn’t actually mind her company but might actually accidentally drive her away.

Great.

Just great. 

* * *

The next morning the rain and fog remained, cloaking the castle. Octavia was restless and he spent a good portion of the morning helping spar with her, their wooden swords filling the otherwise quiet rooms with sharp clacking at contact. 

Eventually their mother begged them to do something else so she could think about a land dispute she was working on settling, so they moved out into the halls until Octavia grew bored and decided to go off to the kitchens to beg for an early lunch. Which left Bellamy with two wooden swords and the rest of the day.

Maybe it wouldn’t hurt to finish working on his Latin transcriptions. With the decision made, he wandered through the halls until reaching his study. He was trying to not think about how much things had fallen apart the night before (as well as the realizations he might have had) and the old language would be just the thing to distract him. After opening the door though, he then immediately dropped the two swords at the sight in front of him.

To the left in his study, her teal blue dress flared out around her and her blonde hair glowing softly in the candlelight and muted winter light coming in from the windows, was Clarke.

“You’re still here!”

“Close your mouth or you’ll catch flies,” Clarke reprimanded, barely looking up from her spot on the couch. She’d slipped off the short, everyday heels that she wore and left them toppled over on the ground. Her skirt somewhat bunched up around her, Bellamy found that she looked even smaller with her feet tucked up underneath her. But more than that, she looked completely at home on the burgundy chaise lounge that had sat in his study unused for as long as he could remember. He’d always preferred reading at his desk.

He stood at the door for a moment longer, the silence dragging on until she finally looked up from the book. He recognized the yellowish tan leather that bound it as a book that he had finished the other day. He must have left it on his desk. 

“And of course I’m still here, I’d planned on staying at least a fortnight,” she said as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

Maybe it was, he had to admit even to himself that he hadn’t paid much attention to what everyone had said at the start of the week. And that provided him the chance to do what he knew he should have done immediately after what had happened last night.

“I’d like to apologize to you Clarke,” he said quickly before she could say anything, testing her name in his mouth for what might have been the first real time. That caught her off guard and she cocked her head at him.

“While I have to admit I’m not exactly sure what exactly I said last night, I do know that I said something that deeply offended you. And while I’ve enjoyed our banter, I clearly crossed a line.”

A small smile slipped onto her face and it helped lighten Bellamy’s stress as he waited for her to respond. She gave him a small shake of the head.

“You don’t have to apologize. You wouldn’t have known. It was, well, the comment about the perfect life.” She let out a long breath, placing a ribbon at her place in the book before closing it. “There’s no reason for you to know, but I’ve had several… instances back home that make it a far from perfect life. I’d done well in pushing them out of mind until you said something, and I’m afraid I couldn’t hold myself together properly last night.”

His stomach clenched at her admittance and he stepped cautiously forward. 

“My father, King Jacob, passed away just a year ago,” she continued softly. “And then right after, the woman I was betrothed to left me for her old lover. She was a general in the militia and the royal family turned out to be something far scarier to her than war. I was left at the altar.”

At that, Bellamy nearly sunk onto the chair beside the chaise lounge out of shock rather than gravity. 

“I had no idea, I’m so sorry Clarke,” he started to say but she waved him off. 

“Back home, I’m such a scandal that it’s unbearable. So when Kane wrote to my mother, we couldn’t help but jump on the chance. There are too many ghosts that neither of us can avoid, so we took the chance to come here. And you’re, well you’re exactly like you were described.” She laughed at that and Bellamy snorted as well, feeling a grin forming on his face. “And even though I wasn’t wrong about you being an ass, I realized last night that it was the first time in awhile I got to just be myself. I was just Clarke. I didn’t think of any of what had been plaguing me. You didn’t look at me with pity.”

Bellamy found himself nodding along as well. Even in the most traditional of moments of courtship, it hadn’t felt as demanding or stiff with Clarke as it had in the past. He’d always been too distracted by her sassiness or trying to come up with some type of rebuttal. 

“I’m sorry that I brought those memories back for you,” Bellamy said once she was done talking. “I’m glad you felt like you could be yourself while you were here, that’s all I could ever ask of someone in this position.”

Her cheeks had grown stained with pink as she’d talked about her past, her eyes shining as she looked up at his words. 

“I suppose I’m not good at making friends either,” he added on sheepishly. 

“You’re friends with your guardsman, Miller. And I’ve seen you with other people,” she added unhelpfully, but she was smiling all the same.

“Yes, but new friends. People I don’t know very well,” he grumbled. Her smile was wide now and he found he greatly preferred it to distant look she’d worn those first couple days there, or even the sad one he’d just seen her with.

“I feel like there’s something else you’re wanting to say,” Clarke said, leaning forward and he sighed, nodding his head.

He might as well ask her now. Screw losing two silver pieces, he wasn’t ready for his first genuine friendship to drift apart. 

“I don’t want to make you any promises right now. But if you would like, I would like you to stay here longer. As my guest, of course.” He tried to not stumble over his words. As friends if it pleases you.”

She nodded, excitedly if a bit shyly, as the last words left his mouth. He sighed with relief. 

“It’d be an honor, Bellamy” she said, teasingly reaching her hand out so that he could kiss the couple rings she had on her fingers. He did so, feeling light and thankful that he hadn’t ruined anything last night. 

And then he’d gripped her hand and yanked her to her feet. She let out a shriek of surprise but quickly righted herself as he pointed to a tucked back door in the corner of the room.

“If you’re going to stay here, I suppose I should introduce you to the library,” he said proudly.

Clarke clapped her hands excitedly and followed him as he led her towards the door, opening it up to reveal a cavernous room with walls lined with books upon books upon books. Her eyes were filled with wonder as her fingers drifted across the spines of them. He let her wander first, taking it all in, before getting too excited and asking her if she knew anything about astronomy. Which resulted in them each carrying too many books back with them into his study, nearly collapsing under their weight as they tried to stop them from toppling over. The rest of the day was spent with the rain gently hitting the stained glass, creating a gentle lull in the background while they poured over some of the newest discoveries and the oldest myths about the stars above them.

* * *

It was the middle of the night when a sudden pounding against Bellamy’s door jerked him awake, blinking disorientedly while he tried to figure out what was going on. When it turned out the loud banging was indeed not a part of his dream, he stumbled out of his tangled covers and ran across his room to swing open the door.

A young page was standing in front of him, chest heaving as they caught their breath. The panicked expression on their face made Bellamy’s heart freeze and if he’d had the strength, his fingers would have left dents in the wood door that he was holding open.

“It’s – it’s Her Majesty, the queen,” the page choked out. 

Bellamy could feel the blood draining from his face. The floor was icy beneath his bare feet and his stomach churned.

“She’s dead.”

* * *

Maybe if she had been murdered, Bellamy would have been able to find a better release for the anguish that had permanently burrowed into his heart.

He could have hunted someone down, extracted revenge. He could have channeled it into something that felt productive. 

But how he was supposed to fight against a weakening body who was too tired to handle another winter? Who was he supposed to battle when his mother had passed peacefully in her sleep, her body never built to resist the difficulties and strains of the life she had lived?

She’d looked just as beautiful in death as she had in life, her long hair released from the tight confines she wore it in during the day. With the crown gone, her nightgown simple, she had simply been his mother. The woman who had raised him and did her best to raise him and his sister while also maintaining a kingdom. Maybe her best hadn’t always been great, but she had always tried. 

So that was the attitude that Bellamy tried to embrace after he helped close her eyelids, biting back his own tears while Octavia shook with sobs at the end of the bed.

He knew she wouldn’t have wanted him to be consumed by anger, a common request from her to reign it in. Letting Octavia’s emotions be enough for the both of them, he instructed someone to go wake Kane as well as the priest that lived near the edge of the property. While he only preferred religion in a historical sort of sense, observing through reading rather than practice, he knew his mother would have wanted it. 

While they waited for him to arrive and pray over her, Bellamy stepped out into the hall with a shuddering breath. 

Everything was going to change now.

He was going to be king.

The very thought made his knees shake and he gingerly sat down on the long bench that was against the wall in the hallway. Rubbing at his face, elbows on his knees, he tried to do everything he could to pull back on the looming emotional wave. He had to hold it together.

Caught up so much in the moment, he almost didn’t see the slippered feet stopped just in front of his own. 

“Bellamy?” A voice asked softly, and he looked up to see Clarke standing in front of him. She’d clearly just woken up as well, her hair falling out of a loose braid and her long nightgown covered by just a robe. Her eyes, though still losing their last traces of sleepiness, were looking at him with sadness.

“She’s… she’s gone,” he croaked. “She died in her sleep.”

Clarke must have known, he couldn’t imagine why else she was out of bed, but she still murmured a heartfelt sorry, dropping down next to him on the bench. She gently reached over and grasped his hand in hers. It was the first time they’d touched outside of properly supervised moments and he clung to her like a lifeline. 

“It’s unfair.” His voice was hoarse with the tears he was choking back. “She was still young. She didn’t deserve to leave yet.” 

Clarke’s thumb was drawing circles on his knuckle and he tried to not lean into her too much. It was still nice having that dainty of a touch, grounding him back to the hallway and stopping his mind from taking over. 

She let them sit in silence while he fought to compose himself, occasionally repeating himself about the lack of fairness but otherwise trying to just gain control of his breathing. Gone was the awkward silence that torturously followed them that first part of the week, leaving behind a comforting one.

At one point the priest walked past them, his charcoal gray robes barely brushing against the ground and the gold infinity symbol on his necklace twinkling in the candlelight. He nodded sympathetically to Bellamy, the smell of incense around him trailing after even once he had entered the bedroom.

Bellamy knew the old traditions. He’d been there when they’d been performed for Kane’s sweet, older mother when she had passed away from a violent cough. 

He hadn’t ever imagined needing to do it for his own.

“I can’t go in there.”

Clarke looked at him deeply before giving his hand a gentle squeeze.

“You’ll regret it if you don’t,” she said softly. Her voice conveyed something deeper, a weight to her words, and he instinctively knew that she was speaking from experience. 

He nodded at that, slowly standing up and pulling himself upright. Clarke stood with him, giving him a small smile. But when she started to drift away, no doubt planning to return to her chambers, Bellamy tightened his grip on her hand. He hadn’t thought too much about it before going ahead and just doing it, but he needed her strength with him. He wasn’t sure how to say it though, but she seemed to understand and returned to his side. 

If anyone was surprised by Clarke’s presence beside him during the priest’s blessing, calling on his mother’s soul to rise from the ashes and into the light, no one said anything. No one so much as looked at them oddly as Bellamy stood beside the priest, Clarke tucked just behind him with one hand intertwined with his and the other resting on his forearm.

Octavia clung to his other free hand, her cries only somewhat subdued, but it was the new hand that he was holding that gave him the most comfort.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **where else you can find me:** [Tumblr](https://she-who-the-river-could-not-hold.tumblr.com/) | [Twitter](https://twitter.com/the_river_held) | [my carrd](https://she-who-the-river-could-not-hold.carrd.co/)


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for the delay, I had planned on this being out sooner but being home for the holidays really threw me off! Also when I outlined this originally, I hadn’t thought about the fact that I had chosen to include both a coronation and a wedding. But here we are, and I enjoyed myself way too much looking up medieval ceremonies and finding ways to make them fit this universe. This chapter has a bit less direct Bellarke but they’ll be in full swing after this!

Bellamy moved through the next span of events in a daze.

Queen Aurora was buried on a frigid winter day. Everyone was wrapped tightly in heavy fur cloaks, the stray strands tickling Bellamy’s mouth as he stood above her grave and the wind whipping his hair around. It all seemed appropriate weather for how he was feeling. Octavia had lent Clarke a fur cloak and the three of them stood huddled together as the casket was buried. Behind them, Queen Abigail had stood next to Kane, the few other people invited to it falling in line behind them. 

Bellamy's mind was torn between mourning and adjusting to the new responsibilities that were to come. He’d always been the one that looked after Octavia the most, but now he was going to also be the king. People would be depending on him, looking for him to lead.

He’d closed his eyes as the last piles of dirt were piled onto the casket and didn’t open them until there was no one left around him.

Then came the coronation. 

To be quite honest, he wasn’t sure he remembered as much about it. Rather than their family’s colors of a rich scarlet, he was named king in inky black clothes to signify his mourning. It was far from extravagant. Minimal seemed generous. Only the royal family’s closest friends were there, alongside their closest allies. In some cases those were the same, in others they weren’t. His handshake with Admiral Cage Wallace was brief and cold; his hug with Sir Monty Green was warm and long overdue after years of not seeing each other. 

The majority of the coronation to him was a blur, masked by memories of watching his mother become the sole queen after Octavia’s father had died. While that ceremony had been non-traditional, no-one quite knowing what to do with a queen becoming the primary ruler, it had been similar enough that he felt like he was reliving it. He could feel her motions mirroring his, his younger self beside the priest where Octavia now stood. The priest’s words were perfect echoes of that day years ago.

Bellamy fought to keep his balance at the heavy weighted crown was placed on his head. Knowing that it had been worn by his mother and his family before her stirred a feeling of hope in him that he hadn’t felt since that night. The priest then reached forward to trace the infinity symbol onto his forehead with an oil. He accepted the outreached sword and shield as the priest declared to those in attendance the duty of the king to defend, while also protecting, the land of Arkadia. 

As he stood up, his legs almost shaking from the weight of this new reality, he slowly turned to face everyone. There was a roar in recognition from the crowd, and his eyes frantically looked through everyone until he could find Clarke’s bright blue eyes staring up at him.

She looked… proud. 

It threw him a bit but he found his shoulders un-tensing and he smiled back at her. To the crowd, it felt like it was for everyone and they cheered more. He hoped she knew that it was truly for her. It was nearly impossible to imagine going through all of this without her. 

He wanted to say as much to her too once the coronation was complete. Everyone dispersed and he shook of his guards, determined to find a way to have some alone time with her like the day in the library. For someone so confident, it was amazing how much she opened up when she was alone and he wanted to continue to get to know her. 

Finding her was proving difficult.

He didn’t spot her amongst the people leaving the ceremony and when he did his best to pass the quarters she and her mother were staying in, it looked like they were empty.

Muttering angrily to himself, he stalked through the halls until it felt useless. 

Two women passed him and he quickly took the chance once he noticed their uniforms they were wearing.

“Have you seen Clarke?” He asked the two maids. Both of them shook their heads and he swallowed his frustration and thanked them before moving on. He could hear them whispering to each other as soon as he walked past them, barely registering with him that it was because he was a king now.

With Clarke nowhere to be found, he wandered towards his library. It had been an escape before all of this and now it was even more of one. He breathed in the heavy scent of leather and paper, letting it wash over him and relax him. He would have preferred to hang out with her, show her more of the collections he had, but for now it was good enough to escape by himself. Duties would begin soon and he wanted as much peace as possible.

He was in the middle of browsing titles about the stories of the ancient worlds when he heard a throat cleared behind him. Sighing, Bellamy twisted around from his position up on his ladder, where he had been able to reach the higher shelves. Turning, he was granted the sight of his advisor. He was still in the formal clothing he had worn for the coronation. 

“If you don’t mind your highness,” he began, “I’d appreciate if I could have a word with you.”

Bellamy turned back to look at his books and his longing must have been apparent because Kane chuckled.

“It will only be a brief meeting,” he added with a small smile that did absolutely nothing to reassure Bellamy.

He made his way down the ladder, sighing as he reached the last rung, before dropping to the floor and following his advisor into the main study.

He had a feeling he knew what this was about, but also couldn’t help but hope that maybe there was an unexpected calling of the lords together. Or maybe something in the village needed seeing to.

Kane gave him an expectant look, leaning against the back of Bellamy’s desk. 

“Now that you are king, we need to seriously discuss the matter of selecting a wife…” 

Bellamy let out a frustrated huff, crossing his arms across his chest and stared down Kane. His gut instinct had been right after all. He hated how calm he always seemed to be, his hands resting against his chin while he sat casually in front of him. It was like they were discussing a simple matter such as the dinner for that week, not the person who he would have to spend the rest of his life with. And for his coronation to have barely passed too.

“What’s the difference honestly? My mother ruled without a husband for nearly all of our lives,” Bellamy snapped at Kane. 

Kane sighed, shaking his head. Almost as if he couldn’t believe he was having to explain this again.

“Your mother already had the two of you, and a widowed queen with multiple heirs has a distinct advantage over you being an unmarried king with no heirs.”

“What about Octavia?”

“Your sister of course remains in line for the throne, but heirs are vital. Especially considering how young Octavia is,” Kane said matter of factly and Bellamy groaned. It was all too logical and frustrating. It all felt like a trap. 

Kane took the pause in conversation to stand up, walking over to Bellamy and placing a hand gently on his arm. The room felt cold and Bellamy’s stomach kept twisting and turning at the idea of a forced marriage.  _ Arranged _ , he corrected himself miserably. Not that there felt like much of a difference. He felt the same hopeless that he had felt at the coronation.

“Bellamy, if I may. You and Princess Clarke have begun to become friends. She’s a good choice for a queen. She’ll rule fairly and there are far worse choices out there, she’s a good person.”

“When you put it like that…” Bellamy grumbled under his breath, shaking the man’s hand off. The worst part was that he knew that Kane was speaking the truth. As he and Clarke had become tentative friends, he’d seen even more sides of her. She was quick-witted and well-read. She seemed to have an overwhelming loyalty towards her people, something he was sure would translate to the people of Arkadia if she became their queen. She hadn’t even hesitated to comfort him the other night and that compassion would serve everyone well. 

“Queen?”

Bellamy, startled by the sound of his sister’s voice, whirled around. She was peering around the door and staring at the two of them. 

“Does that mean you’ve chosen Clarke?” Octavia asked carefully. He could tell she was trying to not give away her opinion on the matter, but he still felt himself become aggravated. What was the point of living in such a large castle if you couldn’t get away from people?

“I haven’t chosen anyone,” he replied gruffly. 

She didn’t seem to accept his answer, stepping fully into the room. Kane had an expression on his face that Bellamy couldn’t get a read and on which only frustrated him more. And now Octavia was staring at him with some type of anger that he couldn’t place because it wasn’t like she was the one being forced into a marriage.

“If you’re going to get married, I feel like you should have told your only family left,” she snapped back, as if she hadn’t heard what he had just said.  _ Or maybe she had and just ignored it. _ “That’s not what family does. If you’re going to bring someone in, I deserve to know. This isn’t just going to affect you.” 

“I’m backed into a corner, O!” swore Bellamy loudly, rounding on his sister. “Trust me, none of this would even be a conversation if I could help it. She wouldn’t even be here.” 

She was being so infuriatingly immature – as if he wasn’t also dealing with this – that Bellamy hadn’t realized he was shouting until the room fell silent and his voice reverberated off the walls. Kane still had that patient look on his face and Octavia looked surprised, brushing away the irritation that had been on her face. He understood that she was just as overwhelmed as he was with their mother’s death, but that didn’t mean she got to unfairly lash out at him.  _ Both _ of their lives were changing completely. And he’d argue that his was more so. 

But Kane was still looking at him so Bellamy let out a dejected sigh.

“I’ll talk to Clarke,” was all he could muster up to say.

He’d liked getting to become her friend since they declared their truce, he was just going to have to hope that she was willing to marry someone as friends and not for love.

Rolling his shoulders back, he strode out of the library. He went to slam the door shut behind him for good measure (his family had a flare of the dramatics, he couldn’t help himself), but he was stopped in his movements at the sight of Clarke standing before him.

The color had drained from her face and her lips were pursed. 

She’d absolutely heard everything he had just said.

“I didn’t realize my presence was such an inconvenience.” Her voice was cold, colder than that first week. “But I’m relieved to know that I’m also some assistance, since you’re so backed into a corner. And as king, your word is law after all.” 

“Clarke, please don’t think of it like that,” he pleaded.

“I heard enough, your royal highness,” she retorted, her voice tense as she drew herself up to her full height. While a far cry from his own height, she still managed to make him take a half-step back. “Despite being so cumbersome to you, if it’s your wish to marry me, then I acquiesce and will be Arkadia’s queen. As someone who has been disgraced back home, I welcome this opportunity that I would otherwise not be privy to.” 

The stiffness she carried now felt like an entirely person than the young woman he had grown to known since she arrived. He’d seen her furious and then just a couple days ago he had seen her relaxed, laughing and smiling as he showed her the library and they poured over books. But here was Princess Clarke, the title as cold as the dainty tiara in her hair. Her gaze was shuttered off and her impeccable posture had returned. His skin crawled at the wooden nature and he desperately missed the friendship that he had begun to form with her.

But duty called and he didn’t have much of a choice.

He swallowed and did his best to draw himself up as well. All of this was so much worse than it had been, and beyond his biggest doubts of what asking her to marry him would be. They’d squabbled with each other before, but he hadn’t felt shut out from her. Not even after his comment about her lifestyle back home. 

“It would be an honor to call you my wife and my queen,” he forced himself to reply properly, the etiquette that had been drilled into him coming back. 

He hadn’t noticed until then that Kane had stepped out of the study, his arms crossed across his chest while he watched them. His expression was schooled into a blank stare but Bellamy knew his mind was spinning.

Clarke must have spotted him too, her eyes flicking over before landing back on Bellamy. She dropped into a shallow curtsy and then as she rose, nodded. 

“I accept, your highness.” 

And then she swept away, her hands flexing in and out of fists before balling up the fabric of her skirt and turning the corner.

Bellamy let out a long breath, his posture deflating once she was out of sight. Knowing that she thought he only saw her as a convenience, but nothing special, hurt him more than he would have liked. Her presence at his mother’s passing had kept him afloat, so when he thought of moving forward it was impossible to imagine anyone else by his side. Someone who could comfort him but also challenge him like she had during that first week together. 

He wanted a friend and he had one, but of course none of that had come out. All she had heard was his frustrations at the situation and taken it to be in relation to her.

They’d already survived his first blunder, and while he didn’t think she was going to get up and depart during the night, he feared how many more times they could fall into these moments before their blossoming friendship was completely tattered. 

Those thoughts didn’t have long to linger though, as what he had first thought was chaos from the coronation turned into the chaos of planning a royal wedding.

* * *

While he didn’t necessarily have to be too involved in the process, Bellamy still found all of it to be rather inconvenient. 

The foremost part that had to be tackled was arranging all of the aspects of Clarke’s dowery. It hadn’t even occurred to Bellamy and he spent the first bit of talking with Kane about it feeling more ridiculous than he should have. But the idea of marriage had never even gone this far, contrasting personalities and expectations preventing it from reaching this point up until now. So Bellamy sat with Kane and Clarke’s mother to go over the land that he’d be acquiring, as well as the allegiance of the Griffin family military. 

It had surprised him that he had spent so little time with Queen Abigail, but then he spent multiple days with her and was immediately intimidated by her. So maybe it hadn’t been a loss.

When he’d tried to make a passing comment about it to Clarke, bridging the gap between them, she merely had given him a tight-lipped smile and continued on her way. One of her ladies-in-waiting, a girl he believed to be named Harper, had given him a sympathetic look which hadn’t really made him feel all that much better. 

Beyond the dowery conversation (which made Bellamy feel uncomfortable, it felt like he was trading for Clarke), there was a general feeling of chaos that burst through the castle. He wasn’t sure he had ever seen the royal grounds so lively in his life. Even the dark stone walls had an extra shine to them and candelabras he hadn’t known existed were lit. New cooks were brought in from the village and suddenly more servants arrived from Polis to join the ranks of his, doubling up to help assist with the wedding and to serve his future queen.

That was ultimately the worst part. He couldn’t escape the idea that he was going to have a wife whether either of them wanted it or not.

There was no foolishness on his end, nor hers he knew, that they would have ever had the chance to truly marry for love.

But every footman who nearly ran into him, for every scullery maid that squeaked and darted out of his way, for every question from Queen Abigail about the decor, is just another reminder about Clarke. 

His castle,  _ his home _ , was being doted on and improved all of her. 

It made his stomach coil.

Reasoning with himself, a common thing while he’s tossing and turning in his bed, he’s aware that it’s not hatred. He doesn’t have to worry about despising his intended. Some of it might be resentment– and that was what terrified the hell out of him. 

He doesn’t even resent her yet.

He might not ever resent her.

No, it’s much more intense paranoia that she’s going to resent him. That the first week together was a fluke and once they’re married, their banter will fade away and she’ll only see him as the selfish king who took her away from her home along the coast to rot in a grim castle in the mountains. That she’d see the darkness around her and it would consume her. Because this lightness, this business, couldn’t last forever past the wedding.

_ He certainly didn’t normally think it was a grim or dirty castle but anxiety has a way of creeping up on us and twisting ideas before we even know it’s a lie. _

The next morning he stormed over to Kane, after locating him in the stables, and told him that the least he could do was not interfere in their timeline for heirs. 

His advisor had been surprised by Bellamy’s outburst, but quickly agreed to it. 

It was the only sort of control Bellamy felt like he had in this whole situation. A small victory all things considered, but still a victory. He would take that win appreciatively. 

The outburst that he had experienced, and the one that Clarke had heard, felt more like a culmination of everything that had been going on, rather than his genuine feelings. He wanted to explain to her how overwhelmed he felt by everything. His arguments with Kane about getting married wasn’t new, but she hadn’t been there for any of the rest of them. He longed to tell her how much her presence had helped him the night of his mother’s death, but the wedding planning pulled her away from him.

It turned out that all of the expenses that had been spared for his coronation, had instead been used for the wedding. 

As more chefs arrived and the size of his livery grew, and as more and more people arrived, Bellamy willingly let himself block it all out. His sister was still acting frustrated with him (as if he had any choice in the matter – plus he had thought she  _ liked _ Clarke), he couldn’t make time for Clarke at all (what was the point of being king?), and he just wasn’t ready to focus on the fact that he was about to be married.

Which meant that once he decided to just accept his fate and tune it all out, preparations seemed to go much faster and before he knew it, the wedding day had arrived.

The preparation was arduous but he let it happen without a fight, letting himself go with the flow. The only interruption to that process was when Octavia came barreling in to give him another hug. 

“I don’t want to lose you,” she whispered into his chest, as her chambermaid’s apologies spilled over each other.

He gripped her tightly, returning the hug.

“You’re my responsibility O, but you’re also my sister. And you always will be,” he promised, pressing his lips to the top of her head. Of course that had been what was wrong. It wasn’t him supposedly hiding it from her, though that seemed to be stemming from her fear of being left behind.

“We’ll always be family, Clarke will just be a part of it,” he whispered. 

She nodded as she bit back a sniffle. Without the angry snarling or the wooden swords in hand, he was reminded how young she really was. None of this had been easy for either of them and he could only hope they’d have time to come together as a family once everything had settled down.

Eventually Octavia had to leave to finish getting ready and then not long after, Bellamy was escorted to the great hall. 

A golden light came through the windows, reflected in scattered light across the stone floor. Near the front, a woman gently played a lyre while another woman sang. Her voice was low and warm and Bellamy recognized the language she was speaking as Trigedasleng, the ancient language of Arkadia. While not regularly spoken anymore, it had a special place in old traditions and it brought a smile to his face even as the anxiety found root in his gut again. 

He didn’t end up having to wait for very long up in front of everyone before the door creaked open once again. 

The sight of Clarke walking out in her wedding dress admittedly knocks the breath out of him a bit. Where his warm, olive skin tone had been accented by the rich reds in his clothing, her blonde hair and pale skin was further emphasized by the flowing, large white dress. Ivory lace decorate the hem and then up the sides of it. Her long hair had been pulled back into what looked like intricate braids and buns, giving him a rush of thankfulness that his hair had been relatively left alone. 

The crowds stood as she moved through the aisles, her eyes never leaving Bellamy’s as she did. They hadn’t had a chance to clear anything up between them yet, but it didn’t seem to matter in this moment. He was helping draw her closer and her steps grew more confident the closer she got, resulting in a thrum of hesitant relief in his chest. 

At the end of all of this, they’d have to rely on each other. And that seemed to be enough for now for them. 

When she reached him, he hoped the apology in his eyes was enough to convey to her his truth about all of this. And maybe it was because she had a faint smile for him and there was a returned sparkle in her eyes that he had missed. 

“Please kneel, your majesty King Bellamy and your highness Princess Clarke,” the priest instructed kindly, gesturing to the cushions in front of him.

Once they had kneeled on the ground, the ceremony began.

Most of the start was a speech about the importance of the two lands uniting and the bond between Arkadia and Polis, represented through the marriage of the two of them. While Bellamy appreciated that there wasn’t any pretense to love, he also couldn’t help but remember Clarke’s expression when she had treated this like an expectation of her. A burden. If it wouldn’t have been too improper for even them, he would have paused everything to grab her hand and reassure her that he knew they could have a strong friendship through this marriage.

But even he knew that would be inappropriate, so Bellamy stopped his mind from wandering. 

“Today, these two are born anew as they begin a new life together. May these ashes signify the burning of their individual selves and the joining of them as they rise as partners in marriage.” The priest’s voice rang clear through the hall. He then smiled gently at the two of them as a young page walked forward, carrying a golden bowl.

After accepting it, the priest then held out the bowl to him expectantly. The encrusted jewels winked at him in the shafts of light that filled the room, arranged delicately into the similar shape of the infinity symbol. 

Bellamy slowly reached for the bowl of ashes, dipping his thumb into just enough to get the pad of his finger covered but not too much. He remembered the first time Octavia had participated in the sharing of ash on Unity Day when they were both little. She’d gone for it too excitedly and completely knocked it out of the priest’s hands. They’d laughed and then spent all night terrified they’d burn for eternity after dying. Needless to say, he was always cautious since then. 

Pulling his hand out, Bellamy’s eyes met Clarke’s once again. Outwardly she certainly looked as stoic as she had when she’d first entered the Great Hall, but he could see the nerves in her eyes. He couldn’t tell if he should be worried he could already read her that well.

Hesitantly, giving her time to prepare himself, he reached forward with his thumb.

As he placed his thumb onto her forehead, he registered that the priest had begun to speak again. He wasn’t able to focus on it though. Instead, his eyes and attention were magnetized to Clarke. Her skin was warm underneath his touch and smooth, his thumb gliding smoothly down the center of her forehead and tracing down her face. 

_ From fire we are reborn, and from the ashes we rise _ . 

His finger curved as he moved past her nose, his eyes locked on his hand and unable to look at her as he continued down her face. 

Whether it was from Clarke letting out a small gasp at his touch or his own nerves, Bellamy’s thumb caught on her lower lip and he had to suck in his breath to stay focused. The momentary pause felt eons longer, the flash of her teeth and tongue stirring something in him. It had felt altogether too personal for something that was rooted in his mother’s faith and so publicly seen. While he knew no one beyond the two of them would have been able to tell what happened, it still made his face flame in a deep blush.

His thumb finally finished its path and he pulled his hand away from Clarke’s face. Her cheeks were tinged pink too and he felt more overwhelmed than he had imagined he would have. The few weddings he had been to hadn't quite felt like this.

It was then Clarke’s turn and she delicately placed her hand into the gold bowl, her thumb picking up the ash before she pulled it back out. 

Bellamy realized he was holding his breath and tried to let it out before she began.

He had felt her hand the night that his mother had died. Their hands had brushed when she had passed him books in the library. Her touch was nothing new.

But with his hand still burning from tracing her skin, it felt entirely different as her thumb gently pressed into his own skin.

Or maybe it was the final realization of what all of this meant.

With Clarke still shorter than him, even kneeling, she had to look up at him. Just like he had avoided her gaze while he had performed the ritual, her eyes were steadily focused on her hand. It almost tickled him as she guided her thumb down his face, a few specks of ash flicking onto his cheekbones. There was a determination to her face that was oddly cute, paying attention closely as she performed this ritual that was brand new to her. 

Her thumb arced with his nose and he did his best to remain still as she reached his lips. 

As if remembering what happened during his turn, Clarke’s movements faltered just momentarily as she moved over his lips.

He had to close his eyes as her thumb-pad brushed across the arch of his top lip and then pulled slightly at his lower lip. He only opened them again as she pulled her hand away after finishing at his chin, and this time her eyes were entirely focused on him. 

_ From fire we are reborn, and from the ashes we rise _ . 

The out of body experience Bellamy was experiencing, falling into the depths of Clarke’s deep blue eyes, was shattered at the sound of the applause around them. He blinked slowly and looked around, noting the priest’s risen arms and smile. He must have officially declared them husband and wife. He turned to Clarke and nodded subtly. The two rose in synchrony and Bellamy reached out to grasp her hand before they faced the crowd. Maybe he shouldn’t have, but he needed to feel grounded after that. But if the way Clarke gripped his back, it was something she needed as well.

Considering how long the ceremony had felt, it had in fact taken very little time at all. In moments, the heavy gold crown from his coronation was being settled onto Bellamy’s head and the movement to his right indicated that a similar new one was being placed on Clarke. 

They were each handed a scepter and then crowd burst into a more thunderous applause, cheers of “King Bellamy! Queen Clarke!” echoing through the hall. 

After that, they were all ushered into the largest of the dining halls to feast. At some point the scepters were taken from them and they were seated at the head table in front of everyone else. He hadn’t even begun to drink yet, a goblet with spice raspberry mulled wine being thrust into his hand, but it all felt like a whirlwind. It was like he had blinked and arrived here. 

Clarke seemed just as bewildered as him at the festivities around them. Queen Abigail was the most relaxed Bellamy had ever seen and after excitedly embracing her daughter, had returned to a spirited conversation with Kane. He’d never seen his advisor smile so much. He supposed it might have to do with not needing to worry about marrying him off anymore. Octavia was on the other side of him, stabbing at her food with a forlorn look. He’d have to make a note to talk with her later. For so long it had always just been the two of them, he didn’t want her to feel like she was getting replaced. 

But his nerves dissipated as the night went on. Rounds of people, lords and ladies he hadn’t even realized had come, came up to congratulate the two of them. The quartet of musicians played their loudest and some of the young children had jumped up to dance. 

He felt himself smiling and that was enough for Bellamy to truly relax. The world hadn’t ended. He was married, and while it had certainly started off rockier than he had wanted, he wouldn’t have to be miserable through all of this. 

Even Clarke was beginning to smile. They’d been able to share a few words with each other as the night went on, but the crowds around them were insistent and it was difficult to carry on a full conversation. She seemed to charm everyone she talked to, making it difficult to remember how angry they had been with each other. In fact, it almost felt natural. Certainly more natural than any of the previous potential suitors had been. 

Once the the drinks had been flowing for hours and the windows were dark with nightfall, Bellamy watched as Clarke’s lady in waiting, Harper, leaned down to whisper in her ear. He couldn’t help his staring, watching as a slight flush appeared on Clarke’s cheeks. It was pretty, the way the color sat against her skin. It was a similar shade to the stain of blush that had appeared during the ceremony, a fact that made the velvet color on his shirt feel a bit too tight. 

When she glanced back at him, it was too late for him to look away so he just cocked his head at her as if to ask her what was going on. She cleared her throat nervously (an emotion he was still getting used to from her) before she leaned over. 

“Harper is here to help escort me back to my chambers to change for the night, apparently my things weren’t moved to yours yet,” she whispered loudly to him to cut through the music but still keep it for his ears only.

Ah. That explained the blush. 

Feeling himself equally turn red now, he simply nodded and watched as a footman stepped forward to pull back Clarke’s chair so that she could get out. He could only gulp back more of his drink as he watched her move past the throngs of people, a natural at being on the receiving end of so many bows and curtseys. Queendom suited her. 

He stayed for just a while longer, falling into conversation with Miller and John Murphy, another knight who he used to quarrel with but now had begun a tentative friendship with. 

But the longer he stayed, the more the prickling in the back of his mind stayed. It was like his mind couldn’t stop thinking about Clarke or being aware of her. In this case too, being aware of the lack of her presence. 

Eventually he knew it was time for him to retire as well. He’d never seen a member of the royal family be the last one standing at a party and it looked like he’d be following suit. Though after everything that had been going on, he felt like he had a better understanding of why. So with one last sip of the wine, he began to make his way out of the hall. The cheers around him were just as loud as he walked past people, and it gave him a peculiar feeling that maybe – despite being a bad prince – he would be a good king.

He entered the hall with Miller beside him. As his closest guard, it was to be expected. But tonight, with the sounds of the party behind him, Bellamy knew that he would want to be elsewhere and not on posted duty. 

“Do you need me to walk you to your room?” 

Miller’s voice was teasing but Bellamy knew it was a genuine offer. 

He shook his head. “I can manage that much myself.”

His best friend nodded and clapped him on the back, before turning to go back to the late night festivities that Bellamy knew would continue long into the night. It was a time of celebration and with the increased amount of servants and guards, it was also a time of mingling and joining together before resuming duties under the new regime. 

So Bellamy made his way through the castle alone. 

He’d had less mulled wine than he’d expected, the feeling of it fading alongside the noise that he left behind. He couldn’t wait to get out of the velvet shirt and into a looser, more comfortable one to sleep in. And then there was the matter of his wife, who he turned the final corner to see. 

Clarke stood alone outside of his chamber’s door and Bellamy couldn’t help doing a double take. He hadn’t been told much about what to expect tonight, but he’d assumed that some of Clarke’s chambermaids would be with her. Instead, she was as alone as he was. She did however already look prepped for the night, wearing the same nightgown and robe he had seen her in the night of his mother’s death. Her hair similarly was loosely braided, pulled to one shoulder. The regalness that she carried with her had been exchanged for a softness, sleepiness taking over her features and reminding him that it hadn’t just been him going through all of this.

“I told my ladies that I wouldn’t need their assistance past dressing,” Clarke said as she caught his taken aback expression. She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and Bellamy realized for the first time that Clarke was actually actually  _ nervous _ . 

And if she was nervous, hell he was absolutely nervous. 

So all he could do was nod once he had reached her, and then open the door to his bedroom.

While the door to his chambers had never been particularly quiet, tonight it felt like the groan of the wood reverberated twice as loud as normal. It opened up a candle-lit room, vaulted ceilings fading into darkness where the flickering light couldn’t reach. A low-lit fire burned in the fireplace that was tucked against the wall. The embers glowed a deep orange with just a hint of crackling to fill the silence of the room. His bed was centered along the wall, the covers and fur blankets turned down and the canopy pulled aside. 

When Clarke began to move towards it, ghostlike in her movements, Bellamy reached out and stopped her. His hand barely ghosted against the fabric of her nightgown. The heat of her body radiated through the fabric and it teased his fingertips as he let them fall away. The touch was minimal, but it was still enough to make her pause and she turned to look at him curiously.

There was no doubt she had been prepared for tonight. He couldn’t imagine the horror stories she had heard about first nights with new husbands. 

But that wasn’t going to be her fate. Heirs could wait until absolutely necessary. Until she felt comfortable around him again.

Bellamy nodded his head towards the opposite end of the room and Clarke’s gaze followed. She made a small, muted noise of surprise at what she saw.

What had originally been his sitting room, a half-filled area with just a couple couches and another fireplace, now stood a bed. The wood carving matched his as well as the bed coverings, though certainly newer fabric than his. A large window filled the stone wall beside it. 

Clearly still processing it, Clarke looked up at him with curiosity. 

“It’s yours,” Bellamy said with a cough to clear his throat. “You’re my queen, but I won’t make you share a bed until…” he couldn’t figure out what exactly to say to clarify himself, but she seemed to understand. Clarke gave him a small nod and then haltingly began to make her way towards the other bed.

After speaking to Kane earlier that week, he’d circled back with this request. After his previous outburst at him, it hadn’t taken much convincing. And maybe that was because Bellamy had pretended that he was going to try and completely woo Clarke, something that he wasn’t exactly sure of. He was much more focused on regaining her friendship back.

He had to prove to her that he wanted her not just as his queen and wife, but as a true confidant and friend. 

With that thought branded into his mind, he quickly finished getting ready to sleep. The mead flowed through his veins and it cut off some of the night’s chill, though he didn’t hesitate to move hastily as he blew out the candles and returned to his bed.

His eyes fluttered shut, his breath slowing as he felt sleep begin to take over. He was nearly passed out, the exhaustion from the day (nay: week) catching up, when he heard the soft sound of feet moving across the floor. It was subtle. Nearly not even there if not for the fact that he was used to complete silence in his own room.

Still, he wasn’t fully awake when he felt the briefest of touches against his hand. While Clarke had moved cautiously, she had reached his bed faster than he had been expecting and he stirred at the movement. 

“Thank you, Bellamy.” Her voice tickled his ear and she squeezed his hand affectionately. And then to his biggest surprise, he felt as her lips pressed into his hairline in a gentle kiss.

By the time he fully opened his eyes, she had already hurried back to her bed. She’d barely pulled the fur blankets over, her hair reflecting almost silver in the moonlight being cast from the window beside the bed. 

He fell asleep with his heart warm and a small smile on his face.

Maybe this was going to all work out after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's almost a guarantee this is going to get an extra chapter or two to bring the total to four or five chapters. But once I have some more of the chapter hammered out I'll be able to know for sure! I feel like I need to do more justice to them truly falling for each other haha. So if there's anything you'd like to see, feel free to leave a comment! Can't guarantee I'll be able to work things in but I definitely want to add to that part of the story!
> 
>  **where else you can find me:** [Tumblr](https://she-who-the-river-could-not-hold.tumblr.com/) | [Twitter](https://twitter.com/the_river_held) | [my carrd](https://she-who-the-river-could-not-hold.carrd.co/)


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *rises from the dead*

“Octavia, can you please stop for a moment so that I can talk with you?”

Bellamy nearly stumbled trying to catch up to his younger sister. For someone who wasn’t as tall as him, she certainly could move fast when she wanted to. After a particularly snarky remark from her at lunch, Bellamy had stormed after her as she rushed to get to the stables. 

Avoidance was a skill his family had mastered. 

But now that he was king, Bellamy had found it easier to confront issues. He couldn’t avoid his duties, so why should he avoid other aspects of his life?

The problem was that the main thorn in his side was his own sister. 

“You can’t run away forever! I tried to run away from being king, but I couldn’t. Please, don’t run away from me,” he pleaded. She slowed down just enough at his words that he was able to use the length of his legs to his advantage and jump in front of her. 

She simply glowered at him in a fuming silence.

“Just… please talk to me.”

Another beat of silence.

“It was always just us!” Octavia finally burst out. Her bottom lip quivered as she fought to hold onto the persona she had crafted for herself over the years. The strong, assertive young woman who was intimidated by nothing. But now Bellamy could only see his baby sister. 

“We didn’t even get to mourn together. It was just us and then she was there,” Octavia continued, rubbing at her nose with her sleeve. 

“I thought you liked Clarke,” Bellamy said helplessly. He suddenly didn’t know what to do with his hands.

She let out a huff of a breath as if he had missed the point, her gaze looking anywhere but him. He understood better now though. Even growing up while their mother was alive, it had been the two of them. He’d helped raise her, taken care of her when governesses couldn't and Aurora was too busy battling her health and ruling a kingdom. But she was right, even though it wasn’t his fault. There had been nearly no time to mourn – they went from a funeral to a coronation to a wedding. 

“It’s still us, O. That hasn’t changed just because Clarke is a part of our lives,” he added gently, taking a step closer to her. “Remember before the wedding? You came in and we promised we wouldn’t lose each other. That still holds true.”

He had thought the memory would be enough to get her to calm down, but as usual with his sister, he had assumed wrong. Her eyes flashed and she clenched her jaw.

“That was before I knew you were in love with her,” she snapped at him.

He was so stunned at her words that he couldn’t do anything as she quickly barreled past him to get to the stables and her horse, Helios. 

“I see stubbornness runs in the family,” a voice remarked from beside him. 

Bellamy felt a spike of fear that Clarke had heard Octavia’s accusation, but based on her expression it didn’t look like she had.

“It unfortunately does, but it also means she’ll be a strong leader some day,” was all he managed to say. 

“Will she rule?”

He shook his head. “I believe my sister sees herself as a warrior more than princess, when she’s old enough I imagine she’d like to be placed in charge of the guard.”

Clarke nodded thoughtfully and Bellamy could feel the tension that had taken over his body slowly fade away. She never seemed to belittle his emotions, or even his sister’s, and it was astounding the relief that it gave him. 

“She resents how much change there’s been since our mother’s death,” he offered, though Clarke hadn’t pushed him. He couldn’t help himself. “And while I admit part of it is my fault ––”

“None of it’s your fault,” she quickly interjected, giving him a half-smile as if she had known he would place at least some of the blame on himself. “Change is inevitable but there’s something about death that makes it harder to accept.”

Her own father’s death was unspoken in the moment, but Bellamy further relaxed. A melancholy expression flitted across Clarke’s face but she seemed wholly focused on him though.

“She’ll see how special you are,” Clarke added reassuringly, her voice dropping as her hand gently reached out to squeeze his. 

He let her words wash over him, as well as the familiar comfort of her hand holding his. As much as they kept themselves physically distant most of the time, this was something special for them. Ever since the night his mother had died, it was their smell gesture for each other. Always brief, but just enough to ground the other back down. She’d done it that first night, the night of their wedding. He’d done it when she’d said goodbye to her mother before she left for Polis, and now here.

As the soft moment faded back to normalcy, Bellamy’s ears picked up the sound of armor behind them. With a small groan, he cocked his head back and spotted the guard shifting in position. 

“I’m not quite sure what the point of marriage is if we’re still going to be followed around like children,” he grumbled. Clarke let out a stifled giggle, giving the guard her own quick glance before facing Bellamy again. 

“Are you that desperate for alone time with me,  _ husband?” _

The implication of Clarke’s words make his ears flush red. As devout as his land’s origin is, he and many other people had chosen their own time to begin their sexual journeys. While he and Clarke hadn’t discussed it, he assumed the same for her. Which when thought of that way, made it absurd that he should find the topic so embarrassing. 

He wasn’t able to say anything though or redeem the moment because Clarke backed up and bobbed down in a half-curtsey before taking her leave, the guard trailing after her.

Bellamy groaned.

The women in his life would be the death of him.

* * *

Considering how critically, and almost pessimistically the kingdom had viewed him as a prince, Bellamy was surprised how well he was received as king. 

Maybe it was Clarke’s comment about him being special that had stuck with him. It had originally been about Octavia, but it seemed to bleed into his new position as well. Sure, he had been reluctant for years. But it turned out that it wasn’t necessarily the role that had scared him, it was the restraints that he had imagined would be there. But once he began to rule, it turned out that he actually had a lot of ideas. Widely accepted ideas it turned out.

In fact he was coming out of an extremely successful negotiation with Commander Diyoza, a military leader from one of the countries across the sea. The recent coup had thrown the neighboring countries for a loop, but she had so far seemed like a competent leader and no one really particularly missed the now long-gone king who had ruled there. But with this new ruling party came new alliances, and Bellamy wanted to be one of the first ones to strike a relationship with them. And thanks to one of the most honest conversations he’d had with someone else in charge in a while, along with a rousing commentary from Clarke, it looked like they had been successful. 

He was walking towards the kitchens to steal some leftover breakfast (he’d been too anxious to eat much that morning), when Kane caught up to him. He’d been silent during the negotiation save for small comments, but his approval of it all had rolled off of him in waves.

“For a prince who was very much against becoming king, you’ve certainly stepped into your role quite well.” 

Bellamy never did well with flattery and could feel his face heating up.

“I have my queen to thank for that, she’s made this task easier than I could have ever hoped for.” As much of a deflection as it was, it was also the truth. It was laughable to think about the other women who had been paraded around him before she had come. Clarke stood out about all the rest with her wit and natural ability to lead.

“She’s certainly a remarkable young woman,” Kane added, a knowing smile quirking onto his lips. “The two of you have made a match I could have only dreamed would happen.”

Bellamy was torn between rolling his eyes and sheepishly agreeing. The result was an awkward jerk of his head.

“The two of you make a powerful rulership, I’m glad we found you a wife with the ability to lead like she does,” Kane said once it was apparent Bellamy wasn’t going to say anymore. And with that, he gave the young king a nod before turning on his heel to return to his duties. 

It wasn’t that he disagreed with his advisor.

Bellamy fully agreed that Clarke was an incredible queen, one that he was thankful to have by his side and to balance out his more passionate impulses, while he eased her away from thinking with just straight logic.

That wasn’t it – or at least that certainly wasn’t all.

While Bellamy had fully expected her leadership prowess, there were parts of Clarke that he hadn’t even realized he would learn. It wasn’t just in meetings with council members and governors that he spent time with her after all. No, he was also privy to Clarke in her personal life when she removed the crown. 

He knew what she was like in the mornings. Clarke preferred to sleep in, the early light from the window beside her bed washing over as she slept on. She was far from a pretty sleeper, though the very idea of such a thing made Bellamy chuckle. Small puffs of air would roll into muted snores before she shifted over onto her side. And when he would eventually feel like it was his duty to get her awake before her chambermaids arrived, he’d feel the heat of her skin under his hand as he gently shook her awake. She’d hum disapprovingly, burrowing under the large comforter for a brief moment before extending into a full-body stretch as her eyes would lazily blink open. The softness of her gaze when she’d look at him then tugged at his heart every time.

With his attire much less complicated than hers, he’d read while she was prepped for the day. Though it was never his best reading. The words seemed to slip from his mind as he would listen to her chat with her chambermaids, unbothered by the differences in rank between them. More than once she’d caught him watching them out of the corner of her eye and she always gave him a small smile, her nose scrunching up before turning back to the conversation or gown at hand. 

He knew what she was like at night. Her inability to stop talking no matter how tired she was, remembering brief moments from their meeting with the townspeople earlier that day. She’d recite concerns she had about the upcoming season’s crops while methodically brushing through her long blonde hair. It was mesmerizing to watch. And Bellamy had quickly decided that while she was often glowing gold from her crown to her hair, she looked best while draped in silvery moonlight.

So while he had known he would be impressed with her as queen, he hadn’t expected or even considered what she would be like as a wife. And with Clarke, all of it gave Bellamy the overwhelming realization of how much intimacy his life had never had before now.

* * *

Though the days were short in winter with the darkness eating up the day at ungodly hours, winter had felt long and tedious.

A hint of spring was on the horizon and with it came long meetings about crops and trade, as the land warmed and the ocean calmed down from its raging waves and currents enough to let ships return to it. Bellamy had spent nearly the whole morning in a long conversation about the potential of striking a new trade deal this summer and it had entirely gone in circles, no one able to agree on  _ who  _ exactly to align with since they now had to factor in Polis’ alliances as well.

It was a frustrating day and he’d chartered the path alone, so when he was finally released, Bellamy found himself desperately on the hunt for Clarke.

He’d never make her come to every meeting if she didn’t want to, but he had missed her diplomacy and insights today and he was prepared to get on his knees and beg her to help with the negotiations. He knew some people – Admiral Wallace for one – resented how much he had begun to bring Clarke into the fold. It was a ridiculous notion though and it wasn’t going to stop him from keeping the power balance between them equal.

Those were thoughts plaguing his mind as he wandered the castle in search of her. 

He eventually found her and he paused, her name hanging on his lips as he stopped himself from calling out to her and all thoughts of trade left his mind. 

She was pressed against the wall by a window, nearly on her tiptoes to look out. Tightly clutched in her hands was a piece of paper and she appeared to have some type of drawing tool gripped in her left fist, though it was so small it was impossible to tell what it was. Her face was devoid of any stress or frown, entirely peaceful.

He let himself linger on the stairwell for a moment, looking up at her while she drew. He didn’t recall breathing or doing anything loudly, so he took Clarke completely by surprise when she happened to naturally glance around her at one point.

“Good gracious, Bellamy,” she exclaimed with a breathless laugh, dropping from her toes to the flat of her feet. “Are you trying to kill me already? I thought this union had been going well so far.” 

He chuckled, finally making his way up the last few steps to meet her. He hung back on the stone step just below hers, putting them closer in height than normal. It was peculiar seeing her at eye-level but he definitely didn’t mind it.

“I’ll try harder next time, you weren’t even close to falling down to your death,” he teased in response. 

They fell silent as he looked down at her hands. She was clutching the paper towards her chest as if to hide it, though it was impossible to disguise the charcoal stains on her fingertips. He wondered how he had never seen her draw before. From having an impressive amount of knowledge about medicinal plants to leading people, he couldn’t believe there were more talents to uncover in her.

“It’s just something I do in my spare time,” Clarke offered quickly. “I haven’t had a chance to really do it in a while and well when I saw…” she looked back out towards the window. 

Following her lead, Bellamy finally stepped up onto the same step so that he could look out the window as well. It took a moment for him to figure out what she was talking about but then his eyes landed on it: a small flowering bud on one of the vines snaking up the side of the tower. Most of the greenery around it was still dead and frost glittered across the surface of the stones. But through all of that, the spot of green stood out amongst the gray.

“I’ve grown to like the winter, truly,” Clarke added once she saw that he had spotted it, as if she was afraid that she’d offend him by longing for warmer weather. “But it was so exciting to see the new growth that I couldn’t help myself, I had to draw it.” 

“Of course, I would have done the same if I had any sort of artistic talent,” Bellamy said with a grin, looking back at her. 

Any other words he would have said died in his throat when he realized how close they were standing to each other. When he’d moved onto the step, he hadn’t taken notice of their positions and it was only now that he realized they were practically standing on top of each other. Clarke was pressed next to him and when he looked down at her, he realized how much she had to tilt her head back to look at him. As it often happened when he looked at her face too long, he had a flashback to the wedding. To the way his thumb had caught on her lips as he had traced the ash down her profile, binding them for life. 

He wasn’t sure if she ever thought of it too, though he couldn’t miss the almost-imperceptible flick of her eyes towards his lips. 

Immediately, he stepped back down onto the step below her. 

The heat in his face made him feel silly and inexperienced. She was his wife! But the slowly building attraction he felt towards her, something he had assumed was originally just physical, was continuing to press on him and it made him feel out of sorts. This wasn’t what she had married him for. 

“You should have told me you were so low on supplies,” he said instead of anything else he could have at that moment. He nodded towards the nub of charcoal in her hand. “That hardly looks adequate to draw anything, let alone something of detail.”

Clarke immediately began to protest, as if she didn’t want to bother him (where was the girl at the start who had only lived to pester him?) but he silenced her with a raise of his hand. There wasn’t going to be any arguing here. 

“I know of a shop in the village that we can go to, I’ve not heard of art supplies there but the shop owner has almost everything I’ve ever heard of. Let’s go this afternoon,” he instructed, feeling his smile mirror Clarke’s growing one. 

Maybe they had married each other out of duty, but he would make sure that she remained happy while she lived here with him.

He managed to convince Kane that they wouldn’t need a large entourage, and that perhaps an even smaller one was better for keeping things from getting out of hand with too many people. His advisor agreed, gave him that stupid understanding smile, and then waved them away. 

The bud Clarke had discovered seemed to be a good omen, the sun breaking through and warming the cold, hard ground as they headed to the village. 

With just a few questions by somewhat confused, awed people of Arkadia, their small party was able to find their way to a shop that boasted a variety of goods. Bellamy had heard of it since Miller came here often, but he hadn’t ever been himself. It was exciting to go from being able to admire the pieces that Miller and his betrothed Eri, decorated their small place with, to getting the chance to supply his own business to the place. 

As they walked in, Clarke immediately became distracted by the sets of art supplies at the entrance. Leaving her be since he would be of no help beyond the coin in the pouch at his hip, Bellamy wandered towards the back of the store. It was crammed with about everything you could imagine. He was impressed, his eyes at one point unable to look away from an antique mirror tucked in the back.

“May I help you?” A voice broke though and he turned to see a tall, lithe blonde woman walking around one of the towering stacks of hand-carved chairs. She startled when she saw him before dropping into a curtsey. “How may I help you, your majesty?”

“I’m here on a quest for art supplies, though her royal majesty seems to have already found it,” he said, giving his own short bow. “You have an amazing shop, if I may say so. And what is your name?”

The woman seemed to glow from the compliment as her gaze swept around the shop with pride before landing back on Bellamy. 

“My name is Niylah, I took over the business after my father’s death so it means a great deal to me to hear your praise.” 

They were just getting into discussing how business was faring, Bellamy hoping to gain an even more personal look at how his village was doing, when a small crash behind them interrupted the conversation. He watched as a young girl scurried out, a guilty expression on her face as she came up to Niylah. 

“I think that stray cat snuck in again,” she mumbled unconvincingly. 

Niylah sighed, but only shook her head. 

“I’ll deal with it later. For now, we don’t want to be rude to our guests. This is his royal majesty, King Bellamy.” She nodded towards him with a pointed look to remind the young girl of her manners. “And this is Madeline,” Niylah finished, gesturing to the child beside her. The tiny girl, maybe eight or nine if Bellamy could still guess ages, performed an unbalanced curtsy before shooting a rueful glance at the shop owner.

“I would rather be called Madi.”  _ A quick nudge with Niylah’s foot.  _ “If it uh, is okay with you Your Royal Highness,” she tacked on nervously, bobbing into a second curtsey as if to make up for her manners. 

“Lady Madi it is,” he responded with a smile, returning her curtsey with his own bow. It made the young girl blush and grin with excitement and he decided maybe it could be fun to be king sometimes.

But then Madi’s eyes fell on Clarke and Bellamy knew he was forgotten. 

She’d finished browsing some of the other wares in Niylah’s shop before coming up behind Bellamy. He’d felt her presence just as Madi’s gaze had drifted. 

“Are you the queen?” 

Madi’s voice was hushed in awe, staring up at Clarke in wonder. While Bellamy’s wardrobe was finer than other male outfits they had passed coming in, his cloak included, it wasn’t as immediately obvious as Clarke’s gown. She’d refused to change out of it, unbothered by the potential dirty hem, and had simply thrown her cloak over it. The deep, scarlet red of his family contrasted against her pale skin (though rosy from the cold), and her deep navy gown with golden threading detailing it. Even in a dark, wooden house, she seemed to radiate her position.

The tiara nestled in her hair seemed to help too. 

Bellamy certainly couldn’t blame Madi for being awe-struck.

“I am indeed, I’m Queen Clarke,” she said back with a smile, giving her own curtsy as Madi did. The young girl was almost too excited by  _ having the king and queen in front of her _ that she did practically fall over this time performing her curtsy. 

“You look just like you belong in a fairy tale,” Madi whispered. Clarke’s eyes lit up and she knelt down to be eye-level with the girl, passing along the art supplies she had brought up with her to Bellamy. He nodded towards Niylah who noted the intended purchase. But all of the focus remained on Clarke and Madi.

“Do you like fairy tales? They’re my favorite stories,” Clarke asked.

Madi shrugged at that, ducking her head. “I do, there just aren’t a lot at the orphanage. So I only know a couple.”

Clarke’s face puckers in sadness and Bellamy feels his own shoulders deflate. In a perfect world there would be no orphaned children, but having just lost his own mother, he knows how cruel the world can be. With that statement too, the wildness of Madi’s hair makes sense and her rambunctious spirit as well. 

“Well,” Clarke started slowly, “there are plenty of fairy tale books up at the castle. I think they’ve been collecting dust for a while, waiting for someone to read them again.”

Maybe Bellamy should have been displeased with her voicing an idea like that without asking him, but instead he could only feel the joy that emanated from the young girl as she looked up at Clarke with shock and excitement.

“Really?”

“Of course,” Bellamy replied quickly, giving a small smile to Clarke’s eager expression. “We’ll schedule a day for you to come up and read some. And maybe bring some back down with you to share with the other children.” 

With a showering of thanks from Madi and insisting on paying Niylah some extra for her help as well as the ruckus they accidentally caused, the remaining part of their trip was a blur. Clarke had given him one sheepish look while Madi had rambled about how excited she was, but Bellamy had gently reassured her that it was more than okay with a small grasp of his hand with hers. Squeezing his hand back, Clarke had mouthed a soft thanks before grabbing her neatly packaged art supplies.

For years Bellamy’s mother hadn’t been able to come down into the village with the fear for her health lingering over them. But now, within a fortnight of their wedding, Bellamy had not only come down to the village but also had the chance to mingle with the people, give them his business, and invite a young orphan to come visit them at the castle. It was a breath of fresh air and he wanted to echo the words Clarke had said to him the other day to her. That she too was special, and he was the one that was seeing it.

* * *

Once their small party had returned to the castle, Bellamy insisted on getting them a table set up outside for Clarke to immediately test out her new materials. She made a weak argument against it, but with the sun out now and spring fighting its way through the cold, it was hard to say no to embracing the warm weather – as temporary as it might be.

Unceremoniously, a troupe of servants and stablehands helped bring out a table to set up in the garden for them. Along with it came some type of tent covering, one that his mother had usually reserved for summers so she wouldn’t overheat. Clarke at some point disappeared and returned with one of the scullery maids, each carrying a large load of breads and cheeses, as well as what turned out to be a mulled raspberry wine. 

It was an unconventional way to spend their afternoon and Bellamy found he was greatly enjoying the confused expressions between the servants. But soon they went away with just one of Clarke’s chambermaids remaining in calling distance along with a lone guard. And they were able to begin their afternoon of relaxation and art.

He thought about the exchange at the shop. It seemed that despite the amount of things that his people were comfortable bringing to him in complaint, no one had ever mentioned the orphanage. It tugged at him and he once again thought of Clarke’s idea to have Madi come to the castle to read. Maybe there was more they could do. He was happy at where he was at with communicating with his people and the reception he had received so far, but maybe it was high time to become more personally involved. Return to the village to see things in person. 

But that could be an idea for a later date. For now, he wanted to ignore his responsibilities and immerse himself in this moment. The budding of spring seemed to be igniting something else and he would gladly forget he was king for a day if it meant enjoying all of this.

Bellamy let out a long breath and began to turn back to see how Clarke’s drawing was coming along when he was stopped by her sharply snapping, “Don’t move.”

He froze in position, flicking his eyes over to see if he had enough range of sight to see her expression. Despite her words, Clarke had a mischievous smile on her face as she bent over her sketch. She was chewing on her lip in concentration and Bellamy found that he would have gladly kept staring at her if it wasn’t for the strain in having to keep his eyes so far to the side. So he reluctantly pulled his gaze back in front of him.

“Can I talk or ––”

Clarke let out an indignant sound and he stopped talking with a wry smile.

Luckily the sun continued to shine down on their patch of the garden, so he let his eyes slowly close (no protest from Clarke) and basked in it. The crispness of the air was still there from earlier, but the stinging from his cheeks was gone. With the warmth of his cloak still draped on his shoulders, the sun on his face, and mulled wine in his stomach, it was easy to relax into his position.

After some time, he heard Clarke awkwardly clear her throat. 

“You can move now.”

It was so rare for Clarke to sound nervous, so anytime she did it immediately registered with him. Cautiously opening his eyes, Bellamy slowly rotated in his seat so that he was facing her. His body was sore from sitting so still, but he was much more focused on her. A nervous energy graced her features and she was holding the paper close to her body. 

“Am I allowed to see it?” 

Bellamy was many things, he could admit that, but he was also smart. And in this case, he wasn’t completely without any thought. He knew why she had made him hold still while she drew. But he wanted to see it for himself.

He waited for her first though, not wanting to intimidate her by holding his hand out expectantly. So it wasn’t until she began to extend out her hand to hand him the paper that he did as well. As he grasped the drawing, he did his best to school his face into a neutral expression. Clarke’s nerves were coming off of her in waves and as much as he wanted to reassure her, he also didn’t want to come across too eager and startle her. 

Outside of royal portraits, Bellamy had never seen his likeness captured in such a way.

In portraits, he was stiff and nearly frowning. After all they took hours to paint and he hated them. His most formal clothing was the most uncomfortable, and he still was dreading the upcoming portrait he’d have to have painted now as king.

This drawing though… this was something else entirely. His thumb gently brushed against the coarse paper, just light enough to feel the texture beneath it but not enough to lift any of the charcoal save for leftover flecks of it. In this sketch, his face was relaxed. His head tilted back just as he had it while he had it while enjoying the sunshine. Instead of the rigidness that his hair was slicked into for official portraits, Clarke took the time to give his curls an extra source of life. They were unruly, haloing his head with flyaway strands that felt ready to dance in the drawing’s breeze.

His thumb landed on his cheeks.

He had never seen his freckles included in a portrait before. But here, they were scattered across his cheeks with wild abandonment in a constellation of sun kisses. She even had the scar above his lip, an old one from when he and Octavia fell off a horse years ago, lightly etched in. 

“Do you like it?”

Clarke’s voice startled him out of his stare and when he looked up, her eyes were wide with nervousness. It was then he realized how long he’d been sitting there quietly looking at it. Heavens, no wonder she looked on the verge of panicking and ripping the drawing out of his hands. 

“It’s –” he cleared his throat, “it’s perfect.” 

Some deeply hidden part of him wanted to say  _ you’re perfect _ but instead he watched as a relieved smile breaks across her face and she takes a sip of the mulled wine. She looked pleased with herself and after she swallowed (murder him in his sleep, why did he watch her swallow like that?) she returns to her sketching. It’s clearly not of him, because she doesn’t bark at him to not move. A part of him considers begging her to draw thousands of drawings so that he can see every way that she looks at him, willing himself to believe that he’s the man captured on the paper in front of him.

But by no longer being the subject of her art, Bellamy can now fully just stare at her. 

He had known that day in the library, when he had nearly lost her, that Clarke was different than every other potential bride that had been paraded in front of him. He’d known she was different as he had watched her step into her role of queen with a grace he almost envied. Taking the reigns of ruling with ease and passion. 

Every moment he’d taken to learn about her, watching her, had resulted in something new. A sense of awe. But this entire time, even as he had watched the moonlight melt across her skin and even when his thumb had caught on her lips with ash at their wedding, he hadn’t paid attention to himself.

It was now that he did. 

It was while he watched Clarke’s hand move easily across the paper, her tongue barely poking out. It was the pang in his chest and the warmth that enveloped him as his eyes traced her profile. Her cheeks were flushed from the brisk air and the excitement of being able to really spend time drawing, giving her cheeks a rosy glow in the sun that reflected off of the remaining snow. Wisps of her hair had fallen loose and he fought the urge to tuck them behind her ear. 

After today, it felt like he had almost seen every side of his new queen. Her curious, artistic side. Her softer, warm side. And now an openness that felt more intimate than anything they had experienced yet.

There was still a side of her he was beginning to want – no, ache – to discover. 

What did it mean to have Queen Clarke love you? 

What did it mean to feel her lips beneath his, catching her breath with his? 

As their afternoon eased into an early evening, the air around them growing colder and eventually pushing them back into the castle, Bellamy had come to the conclusion that he had to find out that last side of her, if she would have him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Activate Soft!Bellamy!! And heart eyes!!
> 
> Huge apologies for this delay! Pretty much I had wanted to add more yearning to this chapter, successfully did for about 75% of it and then life absolutely ran over me and I haven’t been able to finish this chapter until now. I unfortunately don’t have any idea when the next chapter will be ready but I do know this one has really helped me formulate how it’s going to go and I’m excited to work on it! 
> 
> Also this fic’s rating won’t change but I’m considering doing a one-shot Clarke POV of their first time together when they finally do sleep together if I have the time? I’ve literally only written one M rated fic lol but for some reason I feel like it needs to be done for this story, so if that sounds like something you’d be interested in, definitely let me know!
> 
>  **where else you can find me:** [Tumblr](https://she-who-the-river-could-not-hold.tumblr.com/) | [Twitter](https://twitter.com/the_river_held) | [my carrd](https://she-who-the-river-could-not-hold.carrd.co/)
> 
> Thank you so much for all of the love and support this story has received, it means more to me right now than you probably know. Stay kind and take care of yourself!


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whoops, I very much did not mean to abandon this fic! Huge apologies to all of the lovely people that have stuck around to leave such sweet comments and hope for this chapter! I hope this lives up to the rest of this story, I'm afraid most of my inspiration came back to me in the need to write angst which is why this chapter took a little longer to come around. But I loved getting to jump back into this fluff, royalty love story! 
> 
> If you've missed the moodboard for this story, you can find it [here](https://she-who-the-river-could-not-hold.tumblr.com/post/189740588604/traces-of-you-a-bellarke-royaltyau-with-the) on my Tumblr.
> 
> Thanks for sticking around for the conclusion of this AU and I hope you like where it goes! Also a general disclaimer I know next to nothing about medieval medicine/practices so as with everything, it's all ~vague~ for the vibes. Enjoy!

While the revelation that he was in love with Clarke was new, Bellamy quickly realized how little it actually changed their relationship. How natural it already had been.

His queen was already a force to be reckoned with in council meetings and they still operated in unity. He didn’t know how else to convey to her how much he trusted her other than helping her have a say in the land he held so dearly. And seeing her treat it with the respect that he did, showing a love for it more than he could have hoped for, did more to his heart than he would have expected. When it had been proposed that he would enter into marriage, at best he’d hoped for someone he could tolerate. Someone who wouldn’t mind that the king preferred the company of books to people and would learn to at least not hate the cold and isolated land he ruled over.

But instead he married someone who was his equal.

As he continued to find himself falling for her more and more each day, Bellamy showed it in the only way he knew how without words. Continuing to give her more responsibility where he could, striking an even greater balance between their roles as king and queen. 

They even spent the same amount of time in the library together when their royal duties eased up –– though maybe that was where he found himself at his weakest around her. It was difficult to not succumb to the privacy that the library granted them, the intimacy of being alone. It took every ounce of strength he had to not act on it, let his hand linger on her back as he’d pass her to get another book. The texture of the satin fabric catching on his hand as if it was begging him to do it. To grab a hold of her and show her how much he felt for her.

There would be moments he’d feel emboldened to do it. Remembering the feel of his thumb against her lips at the wedding ceremony and the way she had looked at him. The way she had captured his likeness with such a carefulness and attention to detail that made him realize how much she understood every plane of his face. 

Another time he felt like he had a glimmer of hope of reciprocated feelings was the day when he brought the orphanage to the castle. 

Madi, the young girl from the village, had taken to Clarke just as well as she had when they’d been in the shop. The day had been a flurry of poorly, but excitedly executed bows and curtseys from the children, all unsure of how to interact with royalty. Kane had set the children up to have a large lunch, most likely larger than they’d ever had before. Bellamy and Clarke met with the woman who ran it, discussing where funds were lacking and how the royal family could assist. And then at one point when he’d been helping one of the littlest children get a book from the library, he’d noticed Clarke staring at him in a way that was very much not platonically. At one point a few years ago, his mother had teased him that women loved to see men with children and he’d brushed the comment away. Now however he was very pleased with the reality of that statement, at least in regards to his wife.

The only thing that held him back was the fear of ruining the balance between them. In so much of his life he’d been the one to make the first move in anything, always the leading factor on decisions. But something about Clarke made him want to see if she would take the reins of the situation. He just wasn’t sure how to initiate the idea of it to her to see what would happen.

And then he nearly died and that seemed to do the trick.

* * *

In retrospect, Bellamy realized he had never really been injured before. Sure he’d had some scrapes and bruises along the way, one twisted ankle after a wrestling match with Miller, but never _really_ injured. 

So when the impact of the boar’s horns against his stomach erupted in a surprisingly large amount of pain, he realized he wasn’t accustomed with how to properly deal with it. 

It was the first big hunt of the spring. Traditionally it was led by the current ruler and so far nothing had changed. Even his mother, Queen Aurora, had successfully taken down an elk that hushed even the most critical members of her cabinet who had been hesitant about a woman ruling on her own. Before that, Bellamy had the vaguest memories of being very young and his grandfather returning with the largest pig he’d ever seen and the castle had feasted for days. And now it was his turn.

The process was tedious to prepare. Everyone was carefully selected and the hunt _par force_ required each participant to have a specific role. In the dense woods surrounding the castle, filled with thick pine trees, meant that it was easy to get lost and it was important to keep everything organized. Not only could someone get lost, but someone could get hurt. The excitement of the hunt, the controlled danger, didn’t appeal to Bellamy as much he assumed it was supposed to, but he followed through with the expectations. Kane was so pleased about him and Clarke getting along so well that he figured this could be his way of repaying for him for his promised distance in terms of meddling with their timeline.

Bellamy certainly had new thoughts towards that timeline, but he certainly wasn’t going to act on anything until he was confident about where he stood romantically with Clarke.

Octavia was still just shy of being able to join, a frustration she shared vocally to him but accepted all of the same. So she stood alongside Clarke as the two of them watched him and the hunting party head out into the woods one morning. 

The early awakenings of spring that Bellamy had felt that day with Clarke while she drew him had only grown tenfold. The monotone colors of nature had warmed up into more lush, deep greens on the forest floor while the sky dawned a bright pale blue. The fur coats had been packed away and he was wearing only his third-warmest layers of clothing instead of his thickest. He let the warmth of the morning wash over him and felt a smile come to his face.

The barking of the hounds ahead echoed through the trees and Bellamy’s heart pounded against his chest. The exhaustion he was beginning to feel was nothing compared to that of the boar they were chasing. This style of hunting, the persistence hunting, was all about endurance.

As usual, the tightly configured group of humans outlasted the animal and it gave out near high noon, the sun straight above them.

Sweat beaded Bellamy’s curls as he dismounted his horse. It was tradition for the highest ranking noble to be the one to deliver the final blow with a dagger. This was the part he was least excited about but he moved forward anyway.

He should have given the boar’s sense of survival instincts more credit.

Maybe Kane’s anguished lamenting was correct that somehow something had gone wrong on their end.

Either way, the gash of the boar’s tusks against his side were a startling surprise and Bellamy spent the next few moments in a daze as he looked down at the blood seeping onto his hand while Miller frantically stabbed the struggling boar with a spear. 

He was lucky they’d exhausted it as much as they had, according to Kane as they returned to the castle in a haste, it had been too woozy to properly aim. Inches over and it would have completely gored Bellamy’s stomach open and they’d be bringing back a dead body.

The consolation news seemed to be good enough but he was having a hard time focusing on it. The stubbornness of him was trying to insist that he was alright, but he also couldn’t get over the pain. He’d never felt anything like this before and he was distracted by the almost-black stain of blood on the fabric surrounding the wound. He’d had the vague thought that he felt sorry for the poor scullery maid that would be tasked with attempting to clean it, just before he fainted.

When he awoke, it was on top of his bed. He immediately tried to sit back but fell backwards instead, a groan of pain bursting out of him. Gods the way his side hurt. Opening his eyes a second later, he almost flinched at the closeness of Clarke peering at him.

“Are you okay? Don’t move again like that, you’ll disrupt the stitching,” she fussed. 

Outside of evenings, he’d never seen her like this before. Her hair was loose, barely pulled back in a long braid. Gone were her elegant clothes of her day-to-day royalty, instead wearing a simple shift underneath plain brown stays and wool skirt. It was odd to take in, though he did like the way she looked in it and would have told her so if it wasn’t for the pain of her suddenly lifting up his shirt and poking around his wound.

He hissed, abdomen clenching as if that meant he’d somehow be able to get further away from her.

Clarke’s touch was light and a minute later he was able to relax again as he realized she was applying some type of salve to it. She was better at this than he would have expected. 

As she sensed him relaxing underneath her touch, the worry eased from her expression and she shot him a small grin. 

“You’re a much easier patient to take care of when you’re asleep,” she teased lightly. 

“How long was I out?”

She hummed to herself as she considered his question. 

“When they first brought you in, you were passed out for a little while. You woke up just as we began to stitch up the cut and then you fainted once again. Since then it’s been nearly the rest of the day.” 

She slowly rolled his shirt back down, finally looking back up at him steadily.

“I thought you were dead. There was so much blood I––”

Bellamy’s hand instantly grasped at her trembling one. For as much as she had been able to tease him a moment ago, he could see fresh tears forming at the corners of her eyes. It was then he noticed the darkness in the hollows of her eyes, the blood stains under her fingertips. He couldn’t imagine the stress she’d been under and he tried to convey everything he was feeling to her through his touch.

“I’m not though, I’m still here,” he swore softly, tightening his grip on her hand.

She gave him a watery smile and a weak laugh. “Yes, you are. And I’m so… thankful.”

He didn’t want to dwell on the fact that it looked like she wanted to say something else, instead letting her go back to fussing over him. Overall, as long as he didn’t do any sudden movements, the worst thing he was experiencing was just soreness. It looked like he was going to be abundantly lucky with this whole situation. But that didn’t mean he was going to stop Clarke from devoting so much time to taking care of him, not at all. He couldn’t even really remember the last time he’d felt so taken care of either and he wanted to bask in it.

During the rest of the week, he did have to let her return to her duties as queen since he was being instructed to stick with bed rest for now. He did his best to get the most of his sleeping in then, though Octavia was more than happy to bring him various piles of books from the library to read. But he liked to take care of all of that so that when Clarke came back in the evenings, he was all hers. 

His best source of news for it was Clarke’s maid, Harper. She was the primary one who came to check in on him during the day since the doctor couldn’t come every time and Clarke trusted her the most. So she was the one to fill him in on everything he’d missed out on, as well as what his wife wouldn’t tell him. Like how when he’d arrived back at the castle, both him and Kane were nearly covered in his blood. He’d lost color in his skin and the only sound louder than Octavia’s cry was the scream that had come from Clarke. It had been terrifying to hear and she said some of the younger servants whispered how’d they’d heard it echoing throughout the castle hours later. If there had been a doubt of the haste a doctor could be found, it was nonexistent the moment Clarke had collected herself. The queen was in charge now with her king unable to rule, and she would save him at all costs. 

Of course, like he was coming to realize, it had all looked much worse than it had been in reality. The doctor confirmed Kane’s suspicion: if the boar had been only inches to the left all of Bellamy’s insides would have been exposed and he would have no doubt died in the woods. As it were, once the skin was able to somewhat come back together under the stitching, he would primarily lose just some flexibility and gain a large scar.

Hearing of how Clarke had nearly broken was the part that was hardest for him to hear and he didn’t blame her for not telling him that part of the story. Especially after the way her father’s death had affected her. 

According to Harper, Clarke had sat beside the doctor so that she could learn what she could do to help the wound. Which wasn’t much it turned out, but she learned as much as she could and then taught Harper in turn. 

It was with that knowledge that Bellamy watched her each night. She’d bring him dinner every evening, shooing out servants and taking care of everything herself. When they’d first met he’d assumed her to be a spoiled princess. And while their royal status certainly granted them more than their subjects, he now knew well how wrong he’d been about his assumption about her attitude. She picked up the medical craft quickly and knew how to perfectly stoke the fire in his room for when he got mild chills. Each evening while he ate (sometimes with her assistance), she would perch herself at the edge of his bed and relay everything that had happened that day. They’d converse about plans and any issues that had arisen, but he was thankful that not only did he have an exceptional politically-inclined queen running the country in his absence, but that other countries weren’t using the time to cause any chaos.

But then once the day’s discussion was complete, it was his favorite time. Clarke would have a mug of mulled wine or mead and they’d split, falling back into their role as friends and just enjoying each other’s company.

Of course, Bellamy was finally confident that they were more than friends for them now, more than just an arranged marriage. 

Clarke’s excuse was she didn’t want him to feel left out sitting alone in his room all day, but he was able to watch how she relaxed around him. The eagerness at which she curled up on the other side of his bed to talk with him. Each time how she lingered longer and longer before returning to her bed on the other side of the room. It was a far cry from their wedding night when she’d been more than relieved to see a separate bedding set up.

There was also the physicality aspect. It was easy enough to start with Clarke looking after his wound, and maybe that was how she tried to mask it. But the way she took care of it was incredibly different from how Harper did it, or the doctor, Nyko, when he would stop by. But maybe that was why it was under her care that he felt his health return faster than everyone expected. Soon, Clarke was helping him walk around his room and guiding him through movements to see how much mobility he still had. 

Earlier that evening Nyko had come by, alongside his friend Luna, the town’s wisewoman, for one last examination. He’d been surprised by the arrival of the woman until Clarke blushed and told him that she’d asked for an extra opinion on his condition. He’d wanted to kiss the worry lines off of her face, but it also made him smile that she was that determined to make sure every possible person had given him the approval to go back to normal life. As much as he was enjoying this time, he did have an itch to go back to his duties. So he let them examine him for what luckily did turn out to be for the last time. 

“I suppose I’ll be ready to return to being king,” he joked lightly once Clarke had returned to their quarters after having them escorted out. “Though I must admit I liked being able to truly rest for once in my life.”

Clarke smiled endearingly, reaching out to rub his arm gently.

“As much as I’ve loved taking care of you, it will be good to have you back by my side.”

The affectionate tone in her voice wasn’t lost in Bellamy, his eyes shifting to meet hers. 

Maybe this wasn’t what he would have ever hoped for a romantic moment to be, him on the rebound of being hurt and her exhausted from having helped take care of him while running the country, but it seemed like a moment he couldn’t pass up. He just needed to draw up the courage to say something to her now, before tomorrow they fell back into their old routine and lost what this time had given them. 

A quick change in her expression flitted across Clarke’s face as she seemed to contemplate something as well. Whatever it was, she made up her mind quickly. And Bellamy didn’t have long to wait to figure out what it was as she stepped forward quickly, pulling his face down to meet hers and kissing him suddenly.

He was so startled by her so quickly taking initiative, to do the very thing he’d spent so long trying to muster up the courage for, that he didn’t immediately react.

And as abrupt as the kiss had started, it ended.

At his hesitation, Clarke took a small step back from him, chewing her lip nervously and wringing her hands. 

“I’m sorry, I should have asked if I could do that,” she said quickly, her voice quiet as she looked up at him. So different in tone than the urgent way she had pressed her lips against his. Emotions swirled in her eyes and she chewed her lip nervously, pulling his gaze down her face, noting the small mole above her lip before back up again.

“So ask me.”

She blinked slowly at him.

“Ask to kiss me,” he commanded, though the desperate tinge to his voice betrayed the confidence he was trying to convey. 

He’d had that first real taste of her and he couldn’t stand the idea of not having any more. 

His demand was enough for her though, the conflicted expression on Clarke’s face disappearing as she surged upwards again. Her hands clasped his face once again and she brought his lips to hers. 

The fire in her very fiber translated to how she kissed him. 

Her fingernails scraped against his scalp and goosebumps chased down his spine at the sensation. He let himself tightly hold onto her, his hands gripping her waist tightly. She’d already changed from the day and he was thankful he didn’t have to worry about the expensive fabrics or unbelievable amount of layers of clothing that she wore. Instead he could feel the heat radiating off of her skin through the one layer of her dressing gown. 

His mind swirling as they kissed, Bellamy let Clarke guide him back towards the bed. His knees backed into it first and he dropped down onto it with her following and stepping in between his legs. But the momentum of their kiss was halted as soon as he fully sat up from dropping onto the bed, letting out a hiss from the strain on his side. 

Curse this wound for being what helped bring them to this moment, only to slow him down again.

“We should be careful of your wound,” she mumbled reluctantly. 

The need in her voice was apparent and he was sure that she could feel how much he wanted this to keep going as well. But he knew that she was right; they couldn’t further aggravate and make him step back in his healing. So they lowered themselves back onto the bed to lay next to each other, indulging in simpler kisses –– though no less passionate. Eventually even those slowed to just gentle caresses and his hand entangled with her as she tucked herself close to him. Bellamy reached over, brushing back some of her curls who had latched themselves to the side of her face. Even once the offending hair was gone, he couldn’t help gently tracing down the side of her face with his thumb.

“Was it an immediate feeling for you? When did you feel it?” 

He was being greedy. But he wanted to know every thought she had and feelings towards him. Especially now that he knew they reciprocated his own. Luckily Clarke didn’t seem to mind. A soft smile appeared on her face and she snuggled closer to him, her fingers idly drifting across his chest. 

“I think if I’m being honest with myself, it started the evening you apologized to me. It was genuine, not just because of my status. I’ve never had a romantic partner that started out as a friend for me.”

Smiling at the memory, even as sheepish he still felt about the remarks he’d made to require an apology, Bellamy gently stroked his hand through Clarke’s hair. He’d have to remind himself to thank Kane for being so determined that _this_ princess would be the one to work out. Though he didn’t want him to get an ego about it or anything.

“And what about you, my king?” The way Clarke’s breath tickled across his face as she whispered to him was enough to make him shudder, the addition of his title nearly made him groan out loud.

He did his best to ignore the physical effect she was having on him again and thought back on their time together. Somehow it felt she had always been a part of his life, but he smiled as he thought back to their first early meetings. The horse race, the horrid dancing where they’d tried to outshine each other of who was worse at it. But amongst all of the memories and the changes that had occurred, it didn’t take much for him to know what it was.

His voice came out in a low murmur. “The night my mother died.”

Clarke’s hand on his chest paused its movements, spreading her fingers across it instead as the rest of her body stilled as well.

“I was so lost, I felt like I was drowning. And then it was like a dream, you appearing in front of me. Not that propriety has ever truly been at the core of our relationship together, but the moment of you holding my hand transformed me.”

She was quiet as he spoke, and even though his eyes were closed as he imagined that moment as it had happened, he could feel her eyes completely focused on him. Remembering how her hand had felt on his that night, he reached up to clasp hers with the hand that wasn’t currently wrapped around her waist.

“I was so terrified of being lost without her that you stepping in was everything. Even if I didn’t know it was love then, you became my rock. You centered me.”

At this words, Clarke nuzzled herself closer, dropping a gentle kiss to his shoulder. They didn’t need words after that, letting themselves bask in the knowledge of how they felt about each other. Bellamy lost track of time after that, the heat of their earlier moment melting into a soft warmth that spread throughout him. This was what it felt like to be home.

Eventually though, after a few mumbled comments about a potential trip to visit her mother in the south, he bit back a yawn and even then laughed as Clarke echoed him by letting out her own yawn. There was a pulsing soreness in his abdomen from his wound and he knew that it was time to let their bodies succumb to sleep, as much as he wanted to stay up. But there would be time for more of this when he was healed, time where they could go past their limitations and fully consummate their marriage. Even have the conversation of heirs and when a future like that would happen. For now though, it was time to sleep.

Carefully moving some of Clarke’s stray hairs out of his face, Bellamy settled himself closer to her. She’d nestled tightly against him and his arm snaked around her waist to keep her close to him. Even in this spring season, the castle remained somewhat drafty at night. He’d never had someone sleep in his bed, never having let any of his trysts reach that level of intimacy. The feel of her beside him was almost unnaturally normal and it made a slow smile make its way onto his face. 

As he let sleep overtake his body, his limbs and mind relaxing, Bellamy had a fleeting thought about the books in the library. The history books that covered the ancient times, transcribing wars and rulers who were long gone from the earth but remained a part of time through their legacies.

Something in his heart told him that he and Clarke would mark their own pages of history one day, remembered for their time and for ruling side by side together. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **where else you can find me:** [Tumblr](https://she-who-the-river-could-not-hold.tumblr.com/) | [Twitter](https://twitter.com/the_river_held) | [my carrd](https://she-who-the-river-could-not-hold.carrd.co/)


End file.
